Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past
by kalurien
Summary: AU. A 'dark' exploration of Elrond's younger days, controversial subject matter and totally inappropriate for Elves, be forewarned. Prequel to 'Imladris Revisited.' Basically a lengthy plotbunny elaborating on Ch.12 Complete
1. Prologue

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**Dark Memories: Shadows of the past.**

By DLR

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**Prologue**

This is a continuation of my story **Dark Memories**, which can no longer be hosted by Fanfiction.net due to the NC17 rating.  Those first twelve chapters are no longer available on the internet anywhere, at this time.  I don't think it's terribly necessary to the reader to have read those first, as one goes through the subsequent chapters, one is able to get the gist of what happened to Elrond without the graphic description.  For a more detailed explanation, refer to chapter seven of **Return to Valinor**.

As always, most of these characters are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien.  


	2. Chapter 12

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**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past  
**by DLR 2002

Disclaimer: I lay no claim to these characters; they are not of this earth. I also swiped the sub-title, Go me!

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**Chapter 12**

"There you are," exclaimed Glorfindel.  

Elrond looked up. "This is true, I am here."  He turned back to his book.

"Am I disturbing you?" asked Glorfindel, offended.

"Not at all," said Elrond, still reading.

"Where have you been all week?" 

"Here, mostly.  I need to study."

"You have three months before you return to school."

Elrond kept his eyes fixed on his book.  "I am returning early." 

"Oh, I see," said Glorfindel.  "I do not wonder, after all of that."

Elrond looked up.  "After all of what?" 

Glorfindel stared at him.  "The um . . . incident, last week."

"What incident?" asked Elrond, his eyes blank.

Glorfindel was incredulous.  "You do not remember?  We had some wine; we were in an empty room . . ."

"Ah, yes," said Elrond.  "It is very hazy; I imagine I fell asleep on you."

"Nay," said Glorfindel, "you did not."  He stared at Elrond with puzzled eyes.  "You do not remember?" 

"Nay, I suppose it was the wine, then," Elrond responded.  "What is there to remember?"

"Nothing, nothing at all."  He continued to stare at Elrond, frowning.  After a while he spoke again.  "Have you seen the King lately?" 

"Certainly," replied Elrond.  "I see him quite often."

"Does he bother you?" 

"Bother me?"  Elrond was mystified.  "Why in Arda should he bother me?  He is my guardian, he has a right to see me and speak with me."

Glorfindel's large blue eyes remained fixed on his friend, unblinking.

"What is bothering _you?" asked Elrond.  "You are acting strange."_

Glorfindel decided to ask one last question.  "Do you remember telling me that you hated the High King?" 

Elrond looked at him in amazement.  "Why would I say such a thing?  I owe him everything.  I love him of course."

Glorfindel stood, giving up and shaking his head.  "When do you leave for school?" 

"Tomorrow," Elrond replied. 

Glorfindel held out his hand.  "Good luck to you," he said as Elrond took it.  

"Thank you," said Elrond, turning back to his book.

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"What is wrong with him?"  Glorfindel asked.

Gil-galad looked uncomfortable.  "I am no healer, I know not."

"He remembers nothing.  Nothing about that night or any night before it."

"I am aware of that," said Gil-galad.  "Perhaps it is for the best."

"It does not sound healthy," argued Glorfindel.  "Might there not be a treatment?" 

Gil-galad finished undressing.  "Leave it; this is not a worry of yours."  He climbed into bed and closed his eyes.

Glorfindel stood looking at him for a moment, hesitating.  "Get out.  Now," directed the king.

The young elf raised an eyebrow and his lips curled in a sneer.  "Pleasant dreams," he whispered as he left the room.

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_The First Age of Middle-earth, 560    
The Isle of Balar_

Elrond watched as Glorfindel raced across the field on his horse.  He felt a strong sense of foreboding as he observed his friend pull away from the pack of competitors.

Suddenly, Glorfindel's horse tripped and threw his rider.  Elrond watched in shock as the pack of riders rode over Glorfindel, trampling him.  Elrond stood frozen, staring with wide eyes.  Someone pushed him playfully.

"What ails you?" asked Glorfindel, smiling.

Elrond looked up, unbelieving.  

"What is it?" asked Glorfindel, becoming serious.

Elrond was silent, overwhelmed by a feeling he could not explain.

"What is it?" asked Glorfindel again.  "Please, you are frightening me," he said with more intensity. 

"You are in a horse race?" asked Elrond.

"Tomorrow, yes.  I compete as part of the festival."

"Do not go," whispered Elrond.

"What are you talking about?  I am favored, of course I will go."

"I saw you," began Elrond.   

"Where?"          

"In the race.  I saw you as clearly as if it were already happening."

"What do you mean?" asked Glorfindel, surprised.  "A vision?"

"I suppose so," said Elrond, agreeing.  "I see it as if it is happening before me, real, but tis not real, until later, when it comes true."  He looked at Glorfindel.  "Do not race," he repeated.

"What did you see?"  Glorfindel asked quietly.

Elrond stared across the field.  "You were racing, then you were thrown.  The rest of the riders rode over you."

Glorfindel paled slightly.  "Have you ever had these visions before?" 

"Only small ones," Elrond said.  "About lesser matters."

Glorfindel was quiet for a minute.  "I was killed?" 

"I know not," Elrond answered.  "But it did not look good."

Glorfindel knitted his eyebrows.  "If a vision is an accurate portrayal of the future, how can I change it?  Have any of your previous visions failed to come true?"

"Nay, never," said Elrond.  "They all came to pass, but I did not try to change any of them and up until this time, they were all insignificant."

"So, you are saying they could be changed?"

"I am saying, I know not," responded Elrond.  "But it would not hurt to try.  We want to avoid you being killed, do we not?"

"That would indeed be a goal to strive for," agreed Glorfindel.

"Well, then." Elrond paused, thinking.  "I have an idea!" 

"Yes?" asked Glorfindel, interested.

"Armor."  

"I beg your pardon?" 

"You will wear armor," Elrond stated firmly.

"I am in a horse race," said Glorfindel.  "I cannot add fifty pounds to my weight."

"What is your priority," asked Elrond.  "Winning or living?" 

Glorfindel snorted.  "I will look ridiculous." 

Elrond merely raised his eyebrows and stared at him.

His friend stared back.  "I refuse to look silly.  You must think of something else."

"Very pretty you will look, trampled into a bloody mess under the horses' hooves," said Elrond, bluntly.

Glorfindel looked a bit green.  "Hmm, armor.  I will give it some consideration."

"A mail shirt will not be adequate," warned Elrond.

"Hrmph," sniffed Glorfindel, whose thoughts had been running along those lines.  "These visions.  They have all come to pass?"

Elrond nodded.  "Yes." 

"How long have you been having them?" asked Glorfindel.  "This is something new to me."

"Maybe five years.  They started when I was perhaps thirty."

Glorfindel was silent for a while.  "If I just do not race, then it cannot come true."

"Well, perhaps it is not as simple as all that," said Elrond.  "I am beginning to feel it will happen one way or another.  You would have to avoid horses and large groups of horses.  I saw it as a race, but it could be a hunting accident, or even a battlefield casualty." 

He paused.  "Generally, I have not seen things too far in advance, so it has to be in reference to this race tomorrow.  You may as well go; to hide would only serve to postpone the inevitable."

"Well, you have certainly given me some cheery thoughts to ponder this day," commented Glorfindel, wryly. 

"Armor," said Elrond, winking as he walked away.

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Elrond was one of the first beside him after the fall.  He was still conscious and he gave Elrond a weak smile.  Elrond smiled back, trying not to look worried.  He waited for Aranwë to complete his examination.

"Broken leg," Aranwë stated.  "Severely bruised left arm and shoulder, but otherwise, could have been much worse.  He will live," he added.  He beckoned to the stretcher bearers. 

Elrond held Glorfindel's hand as they lifted him.  "Nice armor," he observed.

"Thank you," whispered Glorfindel.  "It looks well on me, does it not?"

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	3. Chapter 13

A/N:  I think at this point I will clarify something I should have said in the beginning.  If the chapter header has a location and a date in it, and the next chapter does not, then assume the location and date to be the same.  I have not indicated a difference between the palace and school because no scenes have been set at school.  When more than a year has passed, I have indicated it.  This is especially important in the chapters coming up, because we go through two thousand years pretty quickly.  Sorry not to make it clear that El was home from school.

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**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past  
**by DLR 2002

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_The First Age of Middle-earth, 575  
The Isle of Balar_

**Chapter 13**

A ball flew by, missing Elrond's head by inches.  Elrond looked up from his book, startled.  The ball's owner ran up, a worried look on his face.

"I beg your pardon, Herdir," he said to Elrond, who acknowledged the apology.  He turned back to his book.

The current school semester had ended and Elrond was home on holiday.  His continued study during the school breaks had, over the years, reduced the length of his formal education from forty to thirty years, and it was nearly ended.

A booted foot kicked his leather shod one and Elrond looked up to find himself gazing into familiar eyes.  So familiar, in fact, they could be his own.

"Gwanunig-nîn," * said the newcomer, giving Elrond a toothy smile.  "When did you return from school?"

"Just today," said Elrond, leaping up to embrace his brother, a wide grin splitting his face.  "And you?  When did you arrive?"

"Today as well," answered Elros.

"How is Círdan?" 

"Ornery as ever," replied Elros, "but I would still rather travel the sea and build ships with him, than any thing else in the world."

Elrond smiled.  "I would say you are a true son of Eärendil." 

"Aye, indeed," agreed Elros with a grin of his own.  "And you?"

"It would seem not," sighed Elrond.

"You must know where your interests lie." 

"Certainly," said Elrond.  "History, lore, languages, written and spoken, translation of such, cartography, astrology, astronomy, herbology . . ."

"Stay," exclaimed Elros.  "You make my head ache."  He tilted his head and looked at his twin. "So what would you do with such knowledge, other than to become a wise old Elf of lore, at a very tender age?"

"Ah, therein lays the problem," agreed Elrond.  "Do you know of any positions open for a resident sage 'in training'?"

Elros laughed loudly.  "Nay, but I will be on lookout."

"Perhaps I could be a prophet of some kind," mused Elrond.

"A seer?" asked Elros, surprised.  "You have extra sight?"

"It would seem so," admitted Elrond.  "I have had many visions lately that have come to pass, also dreams and nightmares, many more than usual."  He looked at his brother.  "You have not?" 

"Nay," said Elros, "not at all."  He paused.  "Although, many times I have felt your pain."

"My pain?" asked Elrond, surprised.

"Yes, I am sure of it," replied Elros.  "Several times in the past I have felt extreme anguish and suffering."  He paused.  "What has happened to you?" he asked in a low voice. 

"I know not," said Elrond, his eyes wide.  "I have no clue as to your meaning."

"This is odd," said Elros, "for I know it was you, we are connected, you and I."

"Indeed," agreed Elrond.

They were silent for a while, reflecting on this.  Their reverie was broken finally as an elf on horseback rode quite near to them.  He dismounted and approached them with his hand out.

"The brothers Peredhil, I presume?" he asked with a smile on his lips.  

Elrond rose and embraced him.  "I am glad to see you, Mellon-iaur*, have you met my brother?"

"I have not had the pleasure," the rider returned.

"Elros, my brother, this is Glorfindel, son of . . ."  Elrond paused.  "Who was your father again?" 

"Glorfindel," said Glorfindel.

"Ah yes," said Elrond, giving him a sidelong look, "how could I have forgotten?"  He started again.  "This is Glorfindel, son of Glorfindel of Gondolin."* 

Elros extended his hand.  "That is an unusual practice," he said, "to be named after one's father, is it not?"

"Indeed," said Glorfindel.  "Sentimental feeling, I would imagine.  I never knew him, my mother being barely with child when he was slain by a Balrog during the sack of the city."

"Ah," said Elros.  "I suppose it makes a difference that he is in the Halls of Mandos, for it would be too confusing to have two Glorfindels alive at the same time."

"Indeed," said Glorfindel, amused.

"And when you have a son," continued Elros, his eyes dancing.  "I presume he will be Glorfindel as well?"

"That all depends," said Glorfindel, playing along with the joke.  "Would I have to perish after his birth to avoid having multiple Glorfindels once again?" 

"Indeed yes." Elros nodded seriously.  "Tis the least you could do."

It was several moments before any of them could stop laughing long enough to catch his breath.

"Perhaps I should consider naming my offspring Glorfindel as well," murmured Elrond.

"A race of them," agreed Elros.

"Enough of this jest," said the real Glorfindel, smiling.  He turned to Elrond.  "I am happy to see you once more.  Have you finished with school yet?"

Elrond rolled his eyes.  "Nay, not quite, it is indeed endless."

"What, you, the scholar, tired of study?" exclaimed Elros.

"Not tired of study," said Elrond.  "Tired of direction.  I wish to pursue my own avenues and not those of the tutors."

"I knew it," said Elros.  "You will be studying through all millennia."  He paused and looked at Elrond.  "Study is all well and good, but nothing compares to experiencing the world."

Elrond regarded his brother for a moment, having no answer to this statement.

Suddenly a loud trumpet blew and they all stiffened.

"It is a summons to the circle courtyard," said Glorfindel.  "A military summons." 

They all looked at each other.  

"You may have your wish to be finished with schools after all," said Elros.

"They do say, be careful what you wish for," murmured Elrond.

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*My twin brother

*Old friend

*Author's note: Could not resist linking the two Glorfindels together in a different way other than the reincarnation theory, although it is not plausible for this story, it would make Glorfindel about fifteen years older than Elrond.  However in 'real' (canon) life, fifteen years is nothing for elves, so it could be 'true'!


	4. Chapter 14

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**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past**  
by DLR 2002

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**Chapter 14**

There was already a large crowd of elves gathered at the largest courtyard in the city, located directly in front of the Palace.  From here, came the calling of the trumpet, the clear notes cutting cleanly through the afternoon air.

Gildor, herald to the high king, brought the instrument down from his lips and stepped up onto a platform.  He unrolled a parchment.

"Hear me," he announced.  "Beginning on the day next, military training will be mandatory for all males who are thirty-five years of age or greater.  Initiate training will be in the south field.  Advanced training for the older and experienced will be in the field of Thalin."

Gildor paused.  "Hear my words," he repeated.  "This is the directive of Ereinion Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor."  He rolled the parchment and stepped down.

The hum of excited voices grew deafening as the elves in the courtyard reacted to the decree.

"That was it?" questioned Elros.  "No explanation?"

"What do you suppose is happening?" asked Glorfindel.

"One would logically presume we are at war," said Elrond.

"Nay, said Elros.  "There would have been more urgency to it."

"Yes," agreed Glorfindel.  "They would have passed out swords and said "come with us now."  He paused.  "The High King is worried, he is taking precautions.  At any rate, it is an end to your school days."

"Nay," said Elrond, smiling.  "Not an end, merely a postponement of the end."

"But the real world at last for you," said Elros.

"Why could the real world not consist of books and scholarly pursuits?" asked Elrond.  "That is what real means to me." 

"The real world to me is a world of action, " said Elros.  "One does not read about doing things, one achieves them.  I would be out at sea, the wind in my face, using every ounce of my strength to hoist the sails . . ."

"I have no desire to be upon the sea," put in Elrond, hastily.  He turned to Glorfindel.  "What of you, Meldir?  What is your real world?"

Glorfindel smiled.  "A soft couch, cushions beneath my head, maidens at my feet, a luncheon of delicious delicacies . . ."

"Stay," smiled Elrond.  "I said real, not fantasy."

"I will make it real, someday," said Glorfindel smugly.

Elrond studied his friend.  "Somehow," he said, his eyes dancing, "I do not doubt it."

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_The First Age of Middle-earth 580  
Near the Plains of Himlad, __Northern Beleriand___

"Give me some of that," said Elrond, panting.  Glorfindel handed him the flask.

Elrond took a long drink, and then choked.  "I thought it was water."

"Why would you think that?" asked Glorfindel, his eyes wide and innocent.

Elrond scowled.  "Warn me, please."

"As you wish," said Glorfindel, grinning.

Elrond leaned back against the rocks, catching his breath.

"Well?" asked Glorfindel. "What did you see?"

Elrond smiled, his teeth gleaming brightly against the backdrop of his dirty face.  "What we expected to see.".

"Many?" asked Glorfindel, worried.

"More than many.  The valley is black with them."

"You had better be able to make an estimate, before you give your report," warned Glorfindel.  "The King will want to hear numbers."

Elrond sighed and closed his eyes.  "Twenty thousand, perhaps?" 

"You saw them, I did not."        

"Maybe you should go look at them as well," said Elrond, lifting an eyebrow.

"Twenty thousand it is," Glorfindel said with a grin.   There was a short pause. "Well, are you ready?" 

Elrond nodded.  "Ready." 

They scrambled quickly down the slope of loose, rocky shale, causing the dust to rise and stick in their throats.  

Glorfindel gave a soft whistle at the foot of the hill and two horses trotted up to them.  The elves mounted quickly and scanned the jagged crest behind them for signs of pursuit.

Turning their horses, they rode stealthily back to the elven front lines as the  night grew deeper.

"Daro," hissed a voice from the darkness. 

"Elvellyn,"* Glorfindel whispered back.  A small lantern shone suddenly into their faces.

"Proceed," said the elf on picket duty.  The lantern was covered once more.

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Gil-galad grunted as Lindir shook him.  "Dawn, already?" 

"Nay, before midnight," Lindir replied.  "The last of the scouts have returned."

"Are they all assembled?" 

"Yes, Sire, they await you," replied Lindir.  He helped his king into some clothes, then kneeling, held his boots ready.

The night was pleasant and the stars were shining brightly as Gil-galad stepped outside his tent.  He made for the group of elves gathered in the clearing.  All eyes turned towards him as he strode up.

Gil-galad looked at the circle of faces, eerie and shadowed, illuminated only by the light of the small fire.  He sought out the dirtiest and weariest among them first.  "Elrond, Glorfindel," he commanded.  "Speak to me."

Elrond unrolled a rough map he had made onto a nearby table.  "We scouted the area of Arrosiach, here."  He pointed to it with a grimy finger.  "In the valley of Dor Dínen there are what looks to be ten thousand orcs.  In the next valley, there are a great deal more, twenty thousand, I think."

Gil-galad looked grim.  He incorporated Elrond's figures onto his own map.  "Any other new tidings?" 

Erestor stepped forward.  "It appears that the company of orcs gathered at Himring has started moving to the east." He indicated the area on the map.  "They look to be joining with this group here."

Gil-galad made the necessary notations.  He looked up.  "Anything else?"  There was silence.  "You are dismissed, get some rest.  Elrond," he put his hand on his scout's shoulder, "you and Glorfindel, good work."

Elrond smiled.  "Thank you, Sire.  I shall sleep now, for a week."

"You deserve it," said the high king.  "Be off with you, then."

Gil-galad stood still, looking after Elrond and Glorfindel as they left the clearing.  He heard a voice in his head and saw a memory. The memory showed him gazing after Elrond, in sorrow, as he did now. 

The more he tried to suppress the memory, the louder the voice became.  His mind's eye beheld a younger, extremely angry Glorfindel, who had noted but misread the king's stare.

The image of Glorfindel sneered at Gil-galad.  "Touch him again, and I will forget you are my King.  Touch him again," it continued in a low hiss, "and I will kill you."

Gil-galad shuddered, the memory having the same menace as the spoken words, some twenty-three years ago.

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*Halt . . . . Elf-friend.   


	5. Chapter 15

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**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past  
**by DLR 2002

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**Chapter 15**

"Go," said Elrond, his voice no louder than a hiss.  "Go now."

Glorfindel reached the next large tree quickly.  He leaned against the trunk, breathing heavily, facing the tree where Elrond stood concealed.

He cautiously peered around the wide expanse.  Nothing unusual met his eyes, the forest was still and quiet in the heat of the late afternoon sun.

Glorfindel loosened his knife in its sheath and fitted an arrow to his bow.  "Go," he hissed at Elrond.  "You are covered."

Elrond sprinted lightly up to the same tree where Glorfindel stood, startling him to no end, for he was watching out in the other direction.

"Mandos!" he exclaimed in a loud whisper.  "You are supposed to go to the next tree!"

Elrond grinned at him impishly, like a mischievous child.  "Were you frightened?" 

Glorfindel's eyes narrowed.  "Be off," he said, smiling, "before I put this arrow in your sorry backside."   

Elrond complied, still grinning.

As he reached his tree and leaned against it, Elrond could see Elros and Erestor practicing the same exercise, about one hundred yards away.

  


_The day will come when we are doing this in earnest,_ he thought, _all too quickly_.  He scanned the area before him as he made ready his bow.  He was just about to beckon Glorfindel when something caught the corner of his eye.  He turned quickly to see a flash of something dark.  He squinted his eyes in an effort to see more clearly.

Glorfindel hissed at him. "What are you waiting for?"

Elrond held the palm of his hand facing out, silencing him.  _What was that?_ he wondered.  Whatever it was, it seemed fairly close to Elros and Erestor.

Glorfindel took a chance and ran up to Elrond's tree.  "What is it?" 

"I am not sure," said Elrond.  "I saw something dark move by that great oak tree to the left."

"Do you suppose they saw it too?" asked Glorfindel, indicating Elros and Erestor.

"Nay, it does not seem so," said Elrond.  "Quickly now, advance on them, the same pattern.  Go." 

They closed the gap between themselves and the other elves cautiously, but in all haste.

"Elros," whispered Elrond.  The twins' eyes met.

At that moment, a black feathered arrow hit the tree directly above Elros' head.

"Yrch!"* he exclaimed.

Black arrows rained among them as they hit the ground, scrambling for cover.

"They seem to be all around us," whispered  Erestor.

"Where in Arda did they come from?" asked Glorfindel.

"Quiet!" commanded Elrond.  "Concentrate please on getting in some good shots."

He held his bow a few inches above his shoulder, its length parallel to the ground.  "Show yourselves," he muttered.

There was a screech as Elrond's arrow found its target.  The elves concentrated on the business at hand for some minutes.

  


"How many do you think there are?" asked Elros.

"Difficult to say," replied Elrond.  "Maybe thirty?"  He looked about at their surroundings.  "It appears the way to the south is clear, perhaps we should attempt an exit."

Elros assessed the situation.  "Crossfire is too heavy.  We would never make it."

"Well then, let us eliminate the crossfire," whispered Glorfindel, as he let another arrow fly.

"This is much too difficult in this position." Erestor moaned with impatience.  "I am not hitting anything."

"Stand, if you wish," said Elrond with a grin.  "I am sure all of your difficulties will cease immediately."

Erestor raised his head slowly, and then brought it back down much more quickly as an arrow flew past.  "I think not," he reconsidered.

"We cannot stay here," Elros pointed out.

"We move to the south," said Elrond, making a decision.  "Slowly.  You two begin crawling, we will cover you."

Elrond and Glorfindel increased their rate of fire, while Elros and Erestor inched away.  Elrond grunted as he pulled black arrows from the tree trunk next to him, his own supply being spent.

"This will not work," whispered Glorfindel.  "They will simply follow us."

"I am open to suggestions," said Elrond, as he shot an orc squarely between the eyes.

"Would that I had any," responded Glorfindel, hitting another orc through the neck.

A thought occurred to Elrond.  "Is it not a bit early for orcs to be out?" 

"Unusual, at the least," replied Glorfindel, somewhat taken aback.  "Well, it is nearly dusk and somewhat shadowy."

"Yes, but it still seems early," said Elrond.

Glorfindel shrugged.  "I am no authority on orc behavior."

They shot arrows in silence for a while.  Elrond could no longer see Elros or Erestor.

  


"Well, it was nice of them to wait and cover our retreat," he observed with sarcasm.

"They are gone?" Glorfindel was surprised.

"It would appear so."

"Well the brush does get thicker back that way," said Glorfindel, "and if we cannot see them, perhaps the orcs cannot either."

"Meaning perhaps, we might sneak away as well?" 

"I do not see any arrows falling in their direction," said Glorfindel.

"Well, why do we tarry then?" asked Elrond.  "Go, I am right behind you.  Quickly now, before they realize we have moved."

They squirmed across the forest floor as rapidly as the undergrowth would allow, taking care to only make an elvish amount of noise.  The orc arrows continued to rain down upon their previous position and did not follow them.

"It will not be long before the orcs notice we are gone," said Glorfindel with difficulty as he crawled.

"Nay, it will not," panted Elrond.  "A few more feet, then let us run."

"Are you ready?" Glorfindel stood.

"I am with you," replied Elrond.

They crouched low as they moved ahead rapidly, for some minutes.  Elrond heard a noise behind him that sounded like a yelp.  He turned and looked quickly around.

Glorfindel was gone.

Elrond froze in his tracks.  _What in Eä?_  He squatted down and listened.  He could hear muffled noises, but from where?  He looked up at the treetops.  Nothing but the whisper of the wind through the branches.  He slowly started to retrace his steps, all of his senses alert.

"Glorfindel," he hissed, then listened.  Elrond could almost make out words.  Finally he was able to determine the area from whence the sounds emanated. Crawling along, he suddenly put his hand on empty space and nearly toppled head-long into a deep pit. He retreated with haste from the edge.

"Glorfindel," he hissed again.  

"Elrond," responded a very relieved Glorfindel.  "Elros and Erestor are here as well."

  


Elrond swore with feeling.  "My thoughts, exactly," he heard Elros mutter.  

"I cannot even see you," said Elrond.  "How deep is it?"

"We can almost see you," said Glorfindel.  "Say, maybe, thirty feet?"

"That is indeed deep," said Elrond, swearing again.  "Is anyone hurt?"  He heard murmuring.

"Just bruises, we think," responded Glorfindel.  "I do not suppose you have a rope?"

"Stay a moment," said Elrond.  "Let me think.  Now I had a thirty foot rope here in my pocket this morning, what has become of it?"

"This is not the time for jests," said Erestor.

"Nor is it the time for silly questions," returned Elrond.  He looked at the forest around him.  _Perhaps a tree_.  Although a thirty foot tree strong enough to bear the weight of an Elf would be considerable.  He would most likely kill someone, trying to get it into the hole.  _Vines, maybe?_  _Not in these woods,_ he concluded.  He heard no signs of pursuing orcs, but he did not think it would be long.

_What else, what else could be used?_  He was becoming desperate.  He froze as a glimmer of an idea came to him.

_No,_ _this is a silly solution,_ but the idea continued to grow, taking hold of his imagination.  _It will take too long,_ _and in all probability will not work._

"Elrond," hissed Elros.  "What are we going to do?"

Elrond hesitated one more moment, and then took the plunge.  "Take off your clothes."

There was a dead silence from the bottom of the pit.

"What did you say?" asked Glorfindel, unbelieving.

"You heard me," Elrond ordered.  "Strip, now."

A low murmuring could be heard.  "Might we know the reason?" asked Erestor timidly.

Elrond sighed.  "You will use your clothing as a rope.  Knot it together and do it quickly."

  


The murmuring stopped as the elves completed the task.  "Can you throw it up to me?"  Elrond asked.

"I would doubt that," said Elros, trying with no luck.  "I will attach the end to an arrow, maybe that will work."

"Hurry please," said Elrond.

"Be ready," said Elros as he shot the arrow. 

Elrond saw nothing.  "What has happened?"  

"I believe it fell short, with the weight of the clothing," said Elros.  "I will try again."

An arrow suddenly appeared above the pit and Elrond, sweeping his bow towards it, managed to snag the line.  He had to grin at the 'rope' as he secured the end and tossed the rest back down into the pit.  "All right, hurry now, climb up."

"We cannot feel it," said Glorfindel.  "It must be too short."

Elrond closed his eyes and swore again.  He hauled the rope back out of the pit and began to remove his clothing.  When he had finished, the rope was several feet longer.

"Now try."  As he watched, the rope grew taut, but held under the strain.  Elrond leaned over the edge and grasped the hand of Elros.  _One elf out of the pit,_ he thought with relief.  He leaned over the edge again.  "Next, please, quickly."  He sat back on his heels and looked at his twin.  Both of them broke into a wide grin and smirked.  There was a noise near the top of the pit and Elros helped Erestor up over the side.

"What was that?" asked Elrond, suddenly.  The other two elves paused and listened.

"Yrch," said Elros, "they are coming."

"Hurry," hissed Elrond, leaning over the pit.

He and Elros grabbed Glorfindel by the arms and lifted him out.

"We have no time," whispered Erestor, alarmed.  Elros was trying to free the knot of clothing from the tree.

"Leave it," said Elrond as he sprinted into the brush.  The other three elves were close behind him.  Elrond circled back the way they had come from originally, reasoning that the orcs would expect them to flee southward.

They hid behind a large cluster of trees as the orcs passed by, going south.  When they had caught their breath and their heartbeats slowed, the elves made their way back to the pit.

"Thank Eru," Elros muttered.  The orc track was a little way to the left, and they did not seem to have noticed the rope as they passed.

Elros walked up to it and assaulted the knot once more.  Swearing in frustration, he took his knife to the stubborn knot.

All four elves watched in amazement as the 'rope,' once freed, slid rapidly down into the hole.

No one spoke for about ten seconds.

"It could be cold," commented Elros.

"It could be raining," said Glorfindel.

"We could be captured right now," said Erestor.

"You may end up wishing you were captured." Elrond scowled at his brother.  "Because I am going to nail your sorry hide to the wall."

Elros looked embarrassed.  "Clothing is overrated as far as necessities go."

"At least we all still have our boots," said Erestor, thinking about the hike back.

Elrond looked at his company silently.  Then he looked at everyone's boots and started to snicker.  "We may as well get started," he said, still grinning.  "We would be wise, I think, to stay off the path."

They picked their way in silence through the underbrush.

"Aie!"  Glorfindel yelped at one point.  "Have a care letting those branches swing."

"Forgive me," said Elrond, hiding a smile.  They reached an area where the brush turned into a briar patch.

"I am not going through there," stated Elros, paling a little.

Elrond sighed.  "Perhaps we should follow the path after all," he said, taking into consideration their scratched and bloody legs.

  


"I give you no argument there," said Glorfindel.

"We may meet the orcs returning," Elrond pointed out.

"Better that than briars," said Elros under his breath.

Elrond raised his eyebrows.  "Clothing is overrated . . ." he began quoting.  Elros grinned and took a swing at his twin brother.  Elrond ducked, smiling, as they made their way back to the path.

It was well beyond nightfall by the time that they approached the outer pickets of the encampment.

"Daro," they were challenged.  "Elvellyn," Elrond answered back.  The lantern was uncovered and the Elf holding it stared at them in silence.

"Do not ask," said Elrond.  The Elf smirked.  Elrond raised his eyebrows and the sentry dropped the smile from his face.  He stepped to the side.

"This should be an interesting experience," observed Elros.  His companions gave him dark looks.

"Perhaps one of us could sneak in and gather clothing," suggested Glorfindel.

"Any volunteers?" smirked Erestor.

There was a silence as they contemplated the brightly lit encampment.

"We could stay here on the outskirts until everyone has retired," said Elros.

"We need to tell the High King about the orcs," said Elrond.  "Immediately."

"I am very hungry," said Erestor.

"Fine, then that settles it," said Elrond.  "We walk in as though it is the most natural thing in the world.  It will be over, soon enough."

He faced his company.  "Now then. Chins up.  Eyes straight ahead.  March."

They commenced to walk quickly through the camp, paying no heed to the stares of their fellow soldiers.  They heard a great many snickers, several cat calls, and at one point, a low whistle.

It seemed like an age before they reached Gil-galad's tent.  The sentry at the entrance regarded them with astonishment.

  


"We wish to make an urgent report to the High King," Elrond declared.

"Enter," said Gil-galad from within the tent, having heard Elrond's voice.

The King was in the middle of a conference with his generals.  He looked up from his map and his eyes beheld the sight of four of his best scouts, very dirty and also very naked.  Well, not naked exactly.  They had bows, quivers, and . . . boots.

Gil-galad raised an eyebrow.  "I send out some skirmishers on a manoeuver and they return looking as though they spent the day in a brothel," he observed.

"We beg to report an encounter with a band of orcs," said Elrond.  "One league to the northwest near Aros Ford."

Gil-galad turned his attention to the map and made a notation.  "These orcs.  They accosted you and stole your clothing?"

"Nay, Sire," said Elrond.  "It was necessary to bind the clothing into a rope to escape from a pit."

The High King exchanged amused looks with Gildor and Círdan.  

"This appears to have been quite an adventure," he said, his lips twitching.  

He addressed Elrond.  "A written report, Captain, if you please, by tomorrow morning."

"Yes, Sire," said Elrond and he motioned for his company to leave the tent.  Once outside they breathed sighs of relief.

"Food," said Erestor.

"Clothes," said Glorfindel.

"Bed," said Elros.

"Go," said Elrond, smiling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Orcs

-ansi-font-size:12.0pt'>"What was that?" asked Elrond, suddenly.  The other two elves paused and listened. 

"Yrch," said Elros, "they are coming."

"Hurry," hissed Elrond, leaning over the pit.

He and Elros grabbed Glorfindel by the arms and lifted him out.

"We have no time," whispered Erestor, alarmed.  Elros was trying to free the knot of clothing from the tree.

  


"Leave it," said Elrond as he sprinted into the brush.  The other three elves were close behind him.  Elrond circled back the way they had come from originally, reasoning that the orcs would expect them to flee southward.

They hid behind a large cluster of trees as the orcs passed by, going south.  When they had caught their breath and their heartbeats slowed, the elves made their way back to the pit.

"Thank Eru," Elros muttered.  The orc track was a little way to the left, and they did not seem to have noticed the rope as they passed.

Elros walked up to it and assaulted the knot once more.  Swearing in frustration, he took his knife to the stubborn knot.

All four elves watched in amazement as the 'rope,' once freed, slid rapidly down into the hole.

No one spoke for about ten seconds.

"It could be cold," commented Elros.

"It could be raining," said Glorfindel.

"We could be captured right now," said Erestor.

"You may end up wishing you were captured," scowled Elrond to his brother, "because I

am going to nail your sorry hide to the wall."

Elros looked embarrassed.  "Clothing is overrated as far as necessities go," he started.

"At least we all still have our boots," said Erestor, thinking about the hike back.

Elrond looked at his company silently.  Then he looked at everyone's boots and started to snicker.  "We may as well get started," he said, still grinning.  "We would be wise, I think, to

stay off the path," he added.

They picked their way in silence through the underbrush.

"Aie!"  Glorfindel yelped at one point.  "Have a care letting those branches swing."

"Forgive me," said Elrond, hiding a smile.  They reached an area where the brush turned into a briar patch.

"I am not going through there," stated Elros, paling a little.

Elrond sighed.  "Perhaps we should follow the path after all," he said, taking into consideration their scratched and bloody legs.

  


"I give you no argument there," said Glorfindel.

"We may meet the orcs returning," said Elrond.

"Better that than briars," said Elros under his breath.

Elrond raised his eyebrows.  "Clothing is overrated . . ." he began quoting.  Elros grinned and took a swing at his twin brother.  Elrond ducked, smiling, as they made their way back to the path.

It was well beyond nightfall by the time that they approached the outer pickets of the encampment.

"Daro," they were challenged.  "Elvellyn," Elrond answered back.  The lantern was uncovered and the elf holding it stared at them in silence.

"Do not ask," said Elrond.  The elf smirked.  Elrond raised his eyebrows and the sentry dropped the smile from his face.  He stepped to the side.

"This should be an interesting experience," observed Elros.  His companions gave him dark looks.

"Perhaps one of us could sneak in and gather clothing," suggested Glorfindel.

"Any volunteers?" smirked Erestor.

There was a silence as they contemplated the brightly lit encampment.

"We could stay here on the outskirts until everyone has retired," said Elros.

"We need to tell the High King about the orcs," said Elrond.  "Immediately."

"I am very hungry," said Erestor.

"Fine, then that settles it," said Elrond.  "We walk in as though it is the most natural thing in the world.  It will be over, soon enough."

He faced his company.  "Now then. Chins up.  Eyes straight ahead.  March."

They commenced to walk quickly through the camp, paying no heed to the stares of their fellow soldiers.  They heard a great many snickers, several cat calls, and at one point, a low whistle.

It seemed like an age before they reached Gil-galad's tent.  The sentry at the entrance regarded them with astonishment.

  


"We wish to make an urgent report to the High King," said Elrond.

"Enter," said Gil-galad from within the tent, having heard Elrond's voice.

The king was in the middle of a conference with his generals.  He looked up from his map and his eyes beheld the sight of four of his best scouts, very dirty and also very naked.  Well, not naked exactly.  They had bows, quivers, and . . . boots.

Gil-galad raised an eyebrow.  "I send out some skirmishers on a manoeuver and they return looking as though they spent the day in a brothel," he observed.

"We beg to report an encounter with a band of orcs," said Elrond.  "One league to the northwest near Aros Ford."

Gil-galad turned his attention to the map and made a notation.  "These orcs," he asked.  "They accosted you and stole your clothing?"

"Nay, Sire," said Elrond.  "It was necessary to bind the clothing into a rope to escape from a pit."

The high king exchanged amused looks with Gildor and Círdan.  "This appears to have been quite an adventure," he said, his lips twitching.  He addressed Elrond.

"A written report, Captain, if you please, by tomorrow morning."

"Yes, Sire," said Elrond and he motioned for his company to leave the tent.  Once outside they breathed sighs of relief.

"Food," said Erestor.

"Clothes," said Glorfindel.

"Bed," said Elros.

"Go," said Elrond, smiling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Orcs


	6. Chapter 16

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**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past  
by DLR 2002**

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * 

  
_First Age of Middle-earth 583  
Just south of Angband, __Northern Beleriand_

**Chapter 16**

_A host of angels,_ Elrond thought, watching them pass by.  _Nothing less than an entire army of angels._

Gildor stood next to Gil-galad, his mouth open.  "Can it be?  At long last, can it really be true?"

"Eärendil," said Gil-galad, and Elrond looked at him.  "Eärendil," Gil-galad repeated.  "He must have reached the Blessed Realm."

"Do you suppose he is here as well?" asked Elrond, his voice barely audible.

Gil-galad looked with concern at the younger elf.  He put his hand on Elrond's shoulder.

"We are merely making guesses," he said quietly.  "Do not become too hopeful."

Elrond turned his eyes back to the marching army, journeying through the valley.  Elros, his brother, stood behind him, biting his lip and saying nothing.  He leaned forward to Elrond. "Would you recognize him?" 

"I would like to think so," replied Elrond.  "But in truth, I know not."

"What are we to do, Sire?" asked Gildor.

Gil-galad stared at the passing of the army of Manwë.  "I have received no instruction." 

"Tell me we will not merely wait here?" asked Círdan.

"Nay," said Gil-galad, "pass the word down.  Dress for battle.  At the very least, we will join the rear-guard." *

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elrond was thoughtful as he tried to remember which pieces of his armor to put on first.  His mind told him to concentrate on the business at hand, the business of warfare, but his heart kept wandering along more personal lines.

Eärendil filled his thoughts and he wondered why.  _I have never known him,_ Elrond said to himself._  Why do I so wish him to be here now?  Has he ever had a thought for me or Elros?  It was his choice to leave, his choice to never return to us.  _

He felt anger and  resentment grow as these unanswerable questions took hold of his mind.  _Eärendil has never been a father to you, yet your wish to see him is your deepest desire._

Elrond fought back tears as emotions long buried surged to the surface of his consciousness.  _Stop it,_ he told himself.  _You may be of Eärendil's blood, but blood matters little in this instance.  Your loyalties, your love, your gratitude, all of that lies with Gil-galad._

_Gil-galad,_ Elrond thought, _he raised you, he was always there . . . _his thoughts broke off and he felt his stomach tighten.  He closed his eyes and broke out in a sweat. _Gil-galad was always there ._ _. . Herdir,_ he thought, and a violent wave of nausea overwhelmed him.

Elrond quickly stepped out of the tent and retched, forcibly.

"Mandos!" exclaimed Elros.  "What ails you?"

Elrond, his hands on his knees, gasped for breath.  "I know not," he panted.  "Nerves, I would wager."

"Aye," agreed Elros, "I am feeling it as well, but your reaction seems a little extreme."

"I was just thinking," said Elrond.

"Yes . . . ?" 

"I was thinking about Eärendil," Elrond continued.

"As am I," said Elros, quietly.

"Do you wish as desperately as I to see him?" whispered Elrond.

"I wish to, but not desperately.  Call it more of a curiosity."

"Do you love Círdan?" asked Elrond, suddenly.

"Aye, indeed," said Elros.  "He has been my teacher, my guidance, my mentor.  I owe everything to him."  He looked at Elrond.  "Why do you ask?"

"You consider him to be more of a father than Eärendil?" 

Elros shrugged.  "He was there, Eärendil was not.  Yes, I suppose he was."

"What was it like for you," Elrond asked, "those years with Círdan?" 

"It was everything I could wish for," said Elros.  "My interests matched his, but if I had been with Eärendil instead?  My life would have been the same, I think, where he was a seafarer."

"Do you not ever resent him, for leaving us?" asked Elrond.

"Nay," said Elros, perplexed.  "I recall missing Mother, but not Father."  He smiled.  "It is not as though we were left destitute," he said.  "Círdan could be grumpy at times, but he never mistreated me."  

He looked at Elrond.  "You, after all, had the more privileged position, being the ward of the High King."  

"Yes, indeed," Elrond said and his face grew troubled.  He felt his stomach tighten again.

"A privileged position," he whispered as the queasiness hit him once more.

"Are you certain it was not something you ate?" asked Elros, his hand on Elrond's back, looking concerned.

"I do not think so," said Elrond, struggling for air and wiping the vomit from his face.  "As you can see, I have not eaten much."

Elros wrinkled his nose in distaste.  "Nay, I suppose not," he agreed.  He looked at Elrond thoughtfully.  "Why is all of this bothering you so deeply?" 

"I know not," said Elrond.  "Perhaps it is just the possibility of Eärendil being there, with them."  He gestured at the passing army.

"You spoke of resentment," said Elros.  "Are you feeling that just today, or always?"

Elrond looked down. "Always," he whispered.

"So you want to see him, why?  To chastise him?" 

Elrond closed his eyes.  "I feel a need to tell him these things.  I want him to acknowledge my feelings."

"The deeper question being 'why'?" said Elros.  "Why do you feel this resentment?  Our situations were similar and I do not."  He paused.  "How was it for you, those years with Gil-galad?"

"There has been no problem," said Elrond.  "The last twenty years or so, he cannot seem to do enough for me."

"What about before that?" asked Elros.  "It was earlier, when I could feel that pain coming from you."

Elrond closed his eyes and sighed.  "We have been over this.  There was no pain coming from me."

Elros sighed as well.  "If you say so.  But I know what I felt."  Elrond started to speak and Elros held up his hand.  "I want no argument from you, gwanunig-nîn, leave it be."

He looked at Elrond.  "That piece does not go there," he said, observing the placement of Elrond's armor.

Elrond looked down.  "Where does it go then?" 

Elros smirked.  "Oh," said Elrond, reddening slightly, making the adjustment.  Elros continued to snicker.

"Well," said Elrond, "it is not as though I wear this every day, it is not usually necessary for a skirmisher."

Elros put his hand on his brother's shoulder.  "Come," he said, growing grave.  "The real world awaits.  I am no seer, but I feel it will be a different world after this day."

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

*Tolkien states that the elves of Middle-earth did not aid the Valar and the Edain in this last battle with Morgoth.  This seems silly to me, as they had been there fighting previously, so I have let them join in.      


	7. Chapter 17

Special thanks to Nemis for all she did in defense of the story this past week. *huggles* This chapter is dedicated to her as it provoked that now legendary live journal rave that made me finally have the nerve to start posting this in the first place. *scatters rose petals*

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past**  
By: DLR 2002

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

**Chapter 17**

An earsplitting crack of thunder shook the night sky.  It appeared that the air itself was on fire as there arose with a great hiss from the pits of Angband, a horde of dragons, belching forth flame and destruction.

Elrond found himself taking shelter close to two Noldorin elves that were scanning the sky.

"Yes, it is indeed Eärendil," said one of the elves.  "Yea, behold the Silmaril!" exclaimed  his companion.

Elrond edged closer, trying to hear their conversation and remember his Quenya.  _A Silmaril?_he thought, _why would_ _Eärendil have a Silmaril?  Elwing had it when she drowned herself,_ his mind said, and it accidentally said all of this out loud.

The two elves of Valinor turned and looked at him.  There was a pause.

"I am Mahtan," said the first elf.  "And you are . . . ?"

Elrond blushed.  "I am Elrond," he said.  "I beg your pardon; I did not mean to intrude."

"It is well that you did, perhaps," said Mahtan, "for you are sadly misinformed.  Elwing is not drowned, what gives you that notion?"

Elrond stared at him, shocked.  "That is the tale told among my people.  She threw herself into the sea in grief, over the loss of her sons.  She had the Silmaril in her keeping and it was lost, with her."

"Nay," said Mahtan, pointing at the sky.  "There it is, on the brow of Eärendil as he sails his vessel Vingilot across the heavens.  Behold, he draws nigh, perhaps he will assist in the conflict."

"That is Eärendil?" asked Elrond in disbelief.

"Yes, tis his doom, by the judgment of the Valar, to sail the skies each night, never to set foot in the lands of men again," related Mahtan.

"Judgment," Elrond whispered.  "For what was he judged?"

"No mortal may set foot on the Undying Lands and still live," Mahtan said. "By the grace of Manwë, Eärendil was allowed to choose by which race he would be judged for his transgression, as he belonged to both.  He and Elwing both chose to be numbered among the Eldar."

"What of Elwing?" asked Elrond.  "Where is she?" 

"She was lifted from the sea by Ulmo," said Mahtan.  "She resides in a white tower in Aman from which she flies in the shape of a great bird from time to time, but come down from the tower among us, she does not."

Mahtan turned his attention back to the battle against the dragons.  Elrond sat in silence, his mind reeling._  His mother, alive in Aman.  His father._  He paused and looked up.  _A star?__  In the sky?_

"Look, something is happening," Elrond whispered.

"Yea," said Mahtan, "tis what I spoke of, Eärendil approaches.  Perhaps the sight of the Holy Gem will turn the tide."

A white flame grew in the sky and great eagles surrounded the apparition.  There came a terrible bright flash and an unearthly screech assaulted their ears.

Down from the sky crashed the great Ancalagon, mightiest of all the dragons, slain by the sword of Eärendil.  He broke the towers of Thangorodrim* with his fall and flames and explosions rose up from the depths of Angband.

Elrond absorbed this spectacle with his arms wrapped tightly around himself, tears in his eyes.

"Adar," he whispered with anguish.

The two elves of Valinor exchanged glances.  "What was your name again?"  Mahtan asked.

Elrond did not take his eyes off the white flames.  "Elrond," he answered quietly.  "She that bore me was Elwing and my sire was Eärendil."

Mahtan smiled.  "Well met, then, Elrond.  One now understands your interest and your ignorance in this matter."

Elrond took Mahtan's hand.  "Thank you."

"You should, perhaps, attempt to locate your companions," Mahtan advised.  He looked at Elrond's armor.  "The House of Fingolfin."

"Aye, indeed," said Elrond, "though he is long since slain. His grandson, Ereinion Gil-galad holds the title of High King."

"And he is most likely looking for you, young son of Eärendil," said Mahtan.

Elrond smiled and hurried away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Elrond!"

"I am here, Aranwë." Elrond called back.

"Thank Eru," said the healer, "you are needed."

"Tell me what to do, Hîrnested."*

"You will work on this side of the area," began Aranwë.  "Separate the severely wounded from the superficial.  You will help treating the superficial and direct the severe cases towards Enelkin or myself."  Elrond nodded.

"Any supplies you might need are over to the left."  Aranwë gripped Elrond by the shoulder.  "I am very glad to see you," he said before he hurried off.

Elrond gazed at the rows of wounded.  He stood frozen for a moment, unsure of where to start.  _Please, _he thought, _let there be no one I am close to, lying here._

There was a hand touching his ankle, hitting it.  Elrond looked down.

"Water," the elf said, his lips cracked and dry.  There was a great barrel filled with water, and Elrond dipped a bucket into it.  He began to go up and down the rows, offering drinks to those who were conscious.  Occasionally, he would indicate an injured elf to be moved closer to the front of the line.

Elrond also took bandages with him and he cleaned wounds and wrapped them as he passed the water ladle around.  There were some very young looking elves lying here.  One was gazing at Elrond with pleading eyes, as Elrond cleaned and wrapped his wound.

"What will happen, Dîrnested?"* the young elf asked.  "Am I going to the Halls of Mandos?"

"Nay," said Elrond, smiling.  "You will be fine.  Do not talk like that."

The young elf smiled weakly at him.  "Here," Elrond said, giving him water.  His patient drank and lay back, sighing.  "Sleep," said Elrond, but it was unnecessary, he was already out.

Suddenly the ground shook as muffled explosions erupted beneath the surface of Arda.  Elrond closed his eyes and prayed silently as the quaking went on.  When he opened them again, the tent was still there, the wounded were still there, and the work was still there.

He moved on doling out water, words of comfort.  Another young one.  _What was he, thirty-two?  Thirty-five?  Too young to be here, really._

Elrond examined the wound, which was in the thigh.  The patient regarded him with narrowed glassy eyes.  "Well, Dîrnested," he whispered, "how does it seem?"

Elrond cleaned the ugly looking gash.  "Do not fret. You will be fine.  Here, drink.  What is your name?"

"Malanthir," the elf replied.

"You will be fine, Malanthir," said Elrond.  "Do not go making any plans with Mandos just yet."

Elrond grew troubled as he regarded the elf's bluish face, although his own face did not show it.  The bandage he had just put on five minutes ago was soaked with blood.

"What are you doing?"  Malanthir asked.

"Stopping the bleeding," Elrond replied as he tightened a cord around the upper thigh.

Malanthir grimaced, breathing heavily.  "We are immortal, are we not?  Does that not mean we will live forever?"

"You will," Elrond told him.  "Lie back, relax and rest."

"Whatever you say, Dîrnested," the young elf said, closing his eyes.

Elrond changed the bandage once more.  He looked about for the stretcher bearers and beckoned them over.  "Move this one forward," he instructed.  The two attendants looked at each other.

"That is a leg wound," one finally said.  "He should stay in the back."

"He should go forward," said Elrond again.

The two elves shifted their feet uneasily.  "We know the orders," the first one said.  "Wounds to the extremities stay in the back."

Elrond looked around in exasperation.  "Be off with you, then."  He stood quietly, thinking.

"Am I being a problem to you, Dîrnested?" asked Malanthir in a whisper.

Elrond squatted down.  "Nay, Malanthir, you are no problem.  I will get help for you."  He patted the young elf's shoulder reassuringly.

Malanthir closed his eyes and gasped in pain.  "Why can you not help me, Dîrnested?" he whispered.  "You are a healer."

"You need a different healer," replied Elrond.  "I will return shortly."

"Nay," said Malanthir, grabbing Elrond's hand.  "Do not leave me."

"Malanthir," Elrond began.  

The young elf looked up at him and his lips trembled.  "Do not leave me to die alone."

Elrond squatted back down, his eyes blinking rapidly.  "You are not dying.  I will get the Hîrnested, he will help you."

"It is too late," Malanthir whispered weakly.  "Do not leave me."

"I am here," said Elrond, wondering desperately what to do.

Then suddenly, it did not matter anymore, it was over.  He saw the light leave Malanthir's eyes and the hand that had been holding his tightly relaxed.

Elrond sat frozen, staring at him, unable to move.  Finally, he reached out and gently closed the unseeing eyes.

"No," he whispered, squeezing his own eyes tight.

He sat there, much longer than he should have, feeling the hand he still held grow cold.  The moans of the living slowly penetrated his consciousness and he forced himself to continue the work, his brain functioning, but his mind closed down, numb.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gil-galad stepped out of his tent into the night air.  He moved off to the side and stood there, quietly relieving himself.

He looked up when he heard a sound, his eyes searching the darkness.  Sitting at a dying fire, several tents away, he beheld a forlorn looking figure.

The high king approached his foster son slowly, not wishing to startle him.  Elrond was a sight, covered in blood, utterly exhausted.

"Elrond?"  Gil-galad said softly.  "What has happened to you, Neth-maethor?"*

Elrond looked down at himself.  "Nothing Rîn-einior,* nothing.  I come from tending the wounded."

"How goes it there?" asked Gil-galad, sitting down.

Elrond stared at the fire.  "People are dying," he said finally, "and I can do nothing to stop it."

"Many more live," said the high king gently, "that would not have, if not for you."

"I do not have the skill to have sway over life and death."

"You will," responded Gil-galad, "in time."

"I need the skill now," said Elrond, looking up at him.  "Tell that those who are dead, because I did not know what to do."

"You are too inexperienced to have been treating the severely wounded," said the king.  "It is not your fault."

"I was all they had," whispered Elrond, "and I failed them."

"Do not be so hard on yourself," said Gil-galad. A shadow fell across his face. "I know how it feels to have been all someone has and to have failed him."

Elrond looked up at him questionably but Gil-galad had turned away, not meeting his eyes.

The king rose and Elrond followed suit.  "It has been a long day," Gil-galad said.  "Get some sleep, for we move tomorrow."  On impulse, he turned and embraced Elrond quickly, then walked away in silence.

Elrond stood frozen, staring at the retreating figure of the high king, his spirit comforted, but his mind in a turmoil, puzzled beyond comprehension.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Stronghold of Morgoth, the first and most powerful Dark Lord

*Lord of healing

*Elf (or man) of healing

*Young warrior

*Crowned elder


	8. Chapter 18

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past**   
by: DLR 2002

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

_The Western Slopes of the Blue Mountains, near Lothlann_

**Chapter 18   **

"You jest," said Elros.  

"Nay," replied Elrond, "tis true."

"Perhaps they were jesting," said Elros.  Elrond raised his eyebrows and looked at his brother.  "Nay, I suppose not," said Elros.  "But think on it.  A star?"

Elrond sighed.  "Believe what you will.  I do not doubt it."

"Cease going around in this endless circle, please," grumbled Glorfindel.  "Not only do my feet ache, but you are making my head ache as well."

"Someone is feeling peevish," Elrond said with a smile.

"Tis something you wonder at?"  Glorfindel muttered.  "This retreat seems endless."

"Fine," said Elrond.  "Stay here, take your chances, drown perhaps."

As Elrond spoke, the ground beneath their feet trembled.  The elves marched on, unheeding, for this was a normal circumstance of late. 

"I was not considering it," said Glorfindel. 

"Perhaps we should consider it, for you," murmured Elros.

Glorfindel gave him a dark look, apparently at a loss for a pithy comeback.

"I would give up half my life if I could have my horse back for just one day," complained Elros.

"Mm," agreed Elrond, whose horse had also been commandeered to help transport the wounded.

"Now who is peevish?" commented Erestor.  They trudged on in silence.

Eventually the order came down the line for a general halt.  Elros threw himself on the ground, exhausted.  "I could not have gone another step," he announced. 

Elrond walked to the closest ridge and looked back into the far-off valley.  Glorfindel came up behind him.  "Do you think we are high enough?"

"I certainly hope so," muttered Elrond.  "Obviously the King thinks so, or we would not have halted."

The ground continued to quake beneath their feet and the view they had of the valley was somewhat obscured by the clouds of smoke still rising from the drowning of Angband.

"I wonder if the waters will recede in the end," Glorfindel pondered.

"It is more than just a flood," said Elrond.  "Regard the shifting of the land itself, mountains collapsing, chasms opening."

"The Valar are very thorough, are they not?" smiled Glorfindel.

"Excessively so," replied Elrond, smiling as well, albeit a little bit grimly.

"Do you suppose we will ever return to Balar?" asked Glorfindel, quietly.

"The future is extremely hazy," said Elrond.  "Rapidly changing events and the many shifts in the fabric of Arda do not enable me to make a prediction."

"Nothing jumps out at you?" asked Glorfindel with a grin.

Elrond did not return his smile, but stared across the valley, his dark grey eyes shining brightly.

"There is something about Balar.  But not a vision, more like a feeling, a premonition." 

"Well . . . ?" prompted Glorfindel.  

"Cloudy, it is," replied Elrond.

Glorfindel sighed.  "Once, just once, I would like to see you throw caution to the wind and actually go out on a limb about something."

"Fine," said Elrond.  "Balar is no more, Middle-earth will be destroyed and we will all die tomorrow."

Glorfindel folded his arms across his chest and looked at his friend.  

Elrond looked back at him his eyes twinkling.  "Or not." 

Glorfindel slapped him on the back and laughed heartily.  "Come.  Let us find something to eat."

The campfires were lit and the cooking begun as they found their way back from the ridge.  Elros sat on his heels, holding a roasting stick over the fire.

"Where did you get fresh meat?" asked Elrond, surprised.

Elros said nothing, but glanced meaningfully at the group of dogs that followed the retreating army.   Glorfindel blanched. "I believe I will pass," he stated, looking a bit green.

"I as well," agreed Elrond, wondering if any he had named were among the missing.

"I am more sleepy than hungry leastways," said Glorfindel as he rolled himself up into his blanket.

Elrond sat a little removed from the fire, gazing a long while at the occasional glimpses of the stars he could see whenever the smoke parted. 

He thought he could from time to time discern a particularly bright one that looked like part of a great ship.

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So," asked Gildor.  "Where are we going?"

"In truth?" responded Gil-galad.  "I know not."  He looked at a map. "We should actually be staying, looking for ships."  He glanced at Círdan.  "It will take some time, to ferry this army back to Balar."

"Aye, indeed," agreed Círdan.  "It has grown some, over the years."

"So, we should repair to the coastline?" asked Gildor.

"It seems that this will be the coastline, soon enough," observed Gil-galad dryly. 

"Then our plans are . . . ?" asked Gildor.

"To stay here," replied Gil-galad.

"And do what, pray?" 

"Pace back and forth and worry," said Gil-galad with sarcasm.

"I do not require any instruction in that area," said Gildor darkly.

"Apparently not," agreed Gil-galad, a death wish in his eyes.

Celeborn opened one eye.  "It is ridiculous to try and get any sleep in this place, could you have some consideration, please?"

Gil-galad raised his eyebrows.  "Beg pardon, my Lord Celeborn, forgive me."

"Pray, do not mention it, Sire," replied Celeborn as he settled back on his blankets.

Gil-galad and Gildor turned back to the map on the table before them.

"Even should this become the new coastline," said Círdan, "it will be too shallow a docking.  Large ships will not be able to navigate it."

"Well," said Gil-galad, "the army of the Valar will have to return home, we should perhaps locate them."

"That is an excellent idea, Sire," said Gildor.  "How do we find them?"

"The usual method," said Gil-galad, annoyed.  "We send out scouts."

"Ah, yes," said Gildor.  "I should have realized it."

"I do not suppose you could realize it in the morning?" asked Celeborn, testily.

"Having trouble sleeping?" asked Gil-galad.  "Perhaps you should see the healer."

"It is you who will require the services of the healer," said Celeborn with narrowed eyes, "if I do not get some sleep."

"Cranky, is he not?" murmured Círdan.

"Lack of sleep," explained Gildor.

"Ah, well, no wonder," said Círdan, nodding.

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	9. Chapter 19

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past**  
by: DLR 2002

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

_Western foothills of the Blue Mountains, Lothlann_

**Chapter 19  **

Glorfindel examined his boots with distaste.  He wrinkled his nose.  

Elrond regarded his friend and sighed. "It is only mud."

"Nay," said Glorfindel with disgust. "This goes well past the concept of mere mud."

Elrond rolled his eyes.  "You are going to get muddy.  Reconcile yourself to the thought."

"If I could ride . . ." began Glorfindel.

"We have been through this," said Elrond.  "The horses are having enough trouble without your added weight."

"It could be worse," said Elros.

"It could be quicksand," suggested Erestor.

"There is no 'worse," said Glorfindel, scowling.  "Smelly, foetid, bug-ridden, disgusting, oozing, slimy mud is as bad as can be."

"Fine, then," said Elrond.  "Return if that is your wish."

Glorfindel looked at him darkly.  "Did you not say we were approaching the end of this ordeal?"

"I did," replied Elrond.  "According to recent maps."

"Yet, you are directing me to go backwards to endure another full day of this torture, rather than finishing it soon, with you?" 

Elrond raised his eyebrows.  "I give you no orders.  You choose the path of logic."  He paused.  "When you have made your choice, apprize me of it."

Glorfindel was getting angry.  "Naturally I choose to go forward with you, if that is the best way, as you say."

"You have made your choice?" asked Elrond.

"I have just told you," said Glorfindel, his voice rising.

"Fine, then," said Elrond.  "Now that you have chosen, I give you a direct order."

"And that would be . . . ?" asked Glorfindel, darkly.

"To silence yourself," answered Elrond, evenly.

Glorfindel opened his mouth and Elrond raised his hand. "You will not complain about anything." 

"But . . ." began Glorfindel.

"No," said Elrond.  "Silence."

Glorfindel looked sulky.  Elros and Erestor exchanged amused glances.

"And also," Elrond continued.  "You will tolerate the remainder of this journey with your customary cheerful wit and charm."  Elrond glanced at Elros and Erestor, sharing a smile.  "As a matter of fact, I would enjoy a cheerful, witty remark as we speak."

He paused.  "That was another order."

Glorfindel stopped in his tracks and looked at Elrond.  His lips twitched as Elrond arched an eyebrow.  

"We are waiting," said Elrond, breaking into a broad grin.

"Fine, then," said Glorfindel, winning.  "Wait."

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Well, this is fortuitous," said Elrond, smiling.

"Well met indeed," said Mahtan.  "I am pleased to see you, son of Eärendil; although I think it would have happened at any rate."

"How say you?" asked Elrond.  "Why did you expect to see me again?"

Mahtan paused.  "I pray I do not speak out of turn, but there is talk of the Valar wishing to speak with the Peredhil."

Elrond looked startled.  He glanced at Elros. "The Valar?  The Valar wish to speak with Elros and me?"

Mahtan turned to him. "So I understand.  This expedition of yours will save the Valar the trouble of seeking you out."

Elrond looked troubled.  "I have orders to report back to High King Gil-galad."

"Well, you must come before Eönwë," Mahtan said.  "He will instruct you.  Follow me, please."

Elros whispered to Elrond as they walked. "I was barely able to follow that.  Are we to be judged?" 

"Apparently," answered Elrond, a worried look on his face.

"What is wrong?" asked Glorfindel. "I followed very little."

"We have made no transgression," continued Elros.

"Except to be born," replied Elrond. 

Elros paled.  "They would hold that against us?"

"I know not."  Elrond sighed.  "We will see."

"You have no vision?" asked Elros.

"Nay," said Elrond tartly.

"It would be helpful, if you were to have one," persisted Elros.

"One does not have control over these things," said Elrond, getting annoyed.

"Ah, what is wrong?" repeated Glorfindel.

"Hopefully, not a thing," said Elrond. "I refuse to speculate any further."

There was silence as the four scouts followed Mahtan through the encampment.

"Who is Eönwë?" wondered Elros.

Mahtan heard him.  "Eönwë is the herald of Manwë.  He is in command of this force." 

Elros' eyes widened.  "He is Vala?"

"Very nearly, greatest of all Maiar," said Mahtan.  He stopped before a large ornately fashioned tent. 

Elrond suddenly glanced down at himself and the others.  "Perhaps we should take a moment to wash."

Mahtan looked him over with a critical eye.  "Nay, you are fine.  Eönwë does not stand on ceremony.  He is undoubtedly aware you are here and will not like any delays.  You will please wait."

Mahtan entered the tent and the four elves of Middle-earth waited.  Waited and fidgeted. 

Mahtan finally reappeared.  "Elrond," he said.  "Come please.  You others will continue to wait." 

There were passageways inside the tent and Mahtan led the way.  He paused before a curtained opening and glanced meaningfully at Elrond before he pulled the fabric back and entered.

"Elrond Peredhil, son of Eärendil," announced Mahtan and he stood to the side, allowing Elrond to enter.  Elrond froze in his tracks as six pairs of extremely bright elvish eyes turned towards him.  Mahtan stepped up behind him and gave him a discreet shove.

Elrond, propelled strictly by momentum, arrived finally before the commander of the army of Valinor.

Eönwë was seated behind a long table, writing.  He looked up when Elrond was announced and watched him approach.

Elrond was unprepared for the aura emanating from the being seated before him.  An elf, but nay, not an elf.  Eönwë's eyes, which were fastened on Elrond, shone with an unearthly light.  His skin, his hair, his entire body glimmered with something Elrond had never seen before.

Eönwë dismissed his entourage with a look.  As the tent emptied out, he turned his attention back to the most uncomfortable and awestricken elf in all of Middle-earth.

"Elrond Peredhil," Eönwë said quietly.  Elrond nodded, quite inappropriately.  Eönwë almost smiled. "Thou hast a message to relate?" 

Elrond stared at him.

"Perhaps ye did not comprehend?" Eönwë asked, switching from Quenya to Sindarin.

"Tis not that, Lord," said Elrond, finding his voice.  "I understand both tongues."

Eönwë sat with his bright eyes fixed on Elrond, waiting for him to continue.  Elrond froze once again.  "Message," he remembered finally, patting his pockets.  He pulled out a rolled parchment and bowing his head, presented it to Eönwë, who received it with a raised eyebrow.

Elrond stepped back, silently cursing himself.  "Hush," Eönwë said, and Elrond nearly fainted.

Eönwë perused the parchment without expression and finishing it, stared again at Elrond who was totally unnerved by this scrutiny.  

"Thy brother and thyself will stay in this place," said Eönwë.  "A reply for thy king will return with thy companions."

Elrond paled even further, if possible.  "I will speak with thee a day or so hence," Eönwë said, dismissing him.  Elrond swallowed hard and backed swiftly out of the tent.  Once outside, he closed his eyes and took many deep breaths.

"What is it?" asked Elros, alarmed.

"Nothing," said Elrond.

"Aiyee, tell me or I will choke you!" said Elros.  "It cannot be nothing."  

"Stay!"  Elrond cried.  "Take your hands from me!"

Elros relaxed slightly.  "Tell me now."  

Elrond sighed.  "I saw Eönwë," he started.  Elros looked at him.  "Well, it was quite an experience," said Elrond, "you will see." 

Elros paled.  "He wants to see me?" 

"Most likely," replied Elrond.  "You and I are to stay here, while Glorfindel and Erestor return with a message for Gil-galad."

"I do not think I wish to be a star," said Elros, frowning with concern.

"I thought you did not believe that," returned Elrond.  Elros looked troubled.  "Try not to worry," said Elrond, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder.

Glorfindel looked more worried than Elros.  "We are to go back right away?  Back immediately through the mud?"

"As soon as Eönwë creates the reply, I would think," answered Elrond.  Glorfindel rolled his eyes.

"I am very hungry," said Erestor.  

Mahtan came out of the tent.  "Come with me.  I will show you to a place where you can wash, rest and eat."

At least one elf looked happy as they followed Mahtan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It is one thing to mix the blood of the Eldar with the blood of the Maiar," Eönwë was saying.  "Both races are immortal and somewhat mystical.  But Eldar and Atani are another thing again."  He paused and looked seriously at Elrond and Elros.  "Ye must choose to which race ye will belong.  One cannot be both mortal and immortal."  Elros stole a glance at his brother while Eönwë continued.

"Should ye choose the life of the Eldar, ye will live years untold, many millennia.  The path of the Firstborn lies in knowledge and wisdom, but for many, agelessness can be a curse.

"Choose ye the path of the Atani, ye will be mortal, but with a lifespan of great length.  The path of the Afterborn leads to wealth and power, for the age of men draws nigh."

Eönwë paused and regarded them gravely.  "Both roads have their advantages, their pitfalls.  Ye must make a choice.  I will know the path of thy choosing seven days hence.  Ye may depart."

The twins bowed and left the presence of the Vala commander. Once outside the tent, they stood, stunned.

"I did not expect that," said Elros.

"Nay," agreed Elrond.  "I expected a decree, a judgment, not a choice."

"This is good news," said Elros.

"Indeed yes," replied Elrond.  "The power is placed in our hands."

"Aye," said Elros, thinking, a faraway look in his eyes. "The power is placed in my hands."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	10. Chapter 20

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**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past**   
by: DLR 2002

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

**Chapter 20**

"You cannot mean that," said Elrond, aghast.  Elros said nothing, keeping his eyes firmly fixed upon the ground.  "How can you even consider this?  There is no comparison, no contest.  Elros," he said with some heat as he gripped his brother's shoulders.  "What in Eä are you thinking?"

Elros finally looked up into Elrond's eyes.  "I had a feeling you would not take this well."

Elrond stared at him, his mouth open.  "Not take this well?" he cried out.  "You are sundering yourself from the life you have known, giving yourself a death sentence, separating yourself from your twin brother and you expect I should take this well?" Elrond was beside himself.  "For what reason do you do this?"

"Calm yourself," said Elros, "and I will try to explain."

Elrond remained agitated while Elros waited.  "Please," said Elros.  "Take deep breaths."  Elrond complied, reluctantly.

"You and I are twins," Elros began.  "We look alike, yes, but in temperament?  We are night and day."

"I will concede that," said Elrond.

"Well, think on it," said Elros.  "What did Eönwë say, 'the path of the Eldar lies in knowledge and wisdom'?"

"He said that, yes."

"And does that not describe you?" 

"I strive for that," agreed Elrond.  

"I do not," said Elros.  "I wish to achieve things, to build something, to make a great mark on the world.  I will not bury my nose in books."

They both fell quiet for a moment.  "There is to be a new land," said Elros.  "Out in the sea between here and the blessed realm, a land given to the Edain as a reward for their achievements in battle."

"How do you know this?" asked Elrond.

"Eönwë," said Elros, "he told me.  In this new land," he continued, "people will be building cities; there will be creation, new ideas and most of all, no conflict.  I am weary of this war-torn land of destruction."

"There will be no more war or destruction here," said Elrond.  "Morgoth is defeated."

"He has been defeated once before and he returned," said Elros.  "Much of his evil remains.  It can be felt, still, woven into the very fabric of this place."

Elros had been staring into the distance and now turned back to Elrond.  "There is another reason why I would go."  Elrond waited in silence.  "Even though I become Atani, my blood will be superior to any of the others, being in part Maia and Firstborn.  I would be the High King."

There was a long pause.  "This has been offered to you?" asked Elrond.

"It has," Elros answered, "and I have made my choice."  He looked into Elrond's eyes.  _Come with me, he pleaded silently.  _

Elrond gazed back at him.  _Stay with me_, his own eyes answered.

Elros shook his head.  "Nay, I must follow my heart."  

"As I must, as well," responded Elrond.  He put his hands on his brother's shoulders and his eyes filled with tears.  "Now that you have explained it, I understand your choice and I agree it is the right way for you."

"I have no wish to hurt you," Elros whispered.

"You do not," said Elrond solemnly.  "Saddened indeed, am I, but you do nothing hurtful."  He embraced his brother.  "I love you, Elros," he whispered.  "I will always love you.  Not a day shall pass that I do not think of you and feel connected to you, no matter where you may be."

Elros held him tightly for a moment, then stepped back and wiped his sleeve across his face.  "I do not depart just yet, but soon I will seek out the descendants of Húrin and Huor and count myself among their numbers.  Cheer thyself, gwanunig-nîn, for you and I, though we may not be together, will lead happy lives for many a long year."

"But how long?" asked Elrond.  "How long will it be for you?"

"I know not," responded Elros.  "Neither do I care.  I will accept what is given to me.  The life of a man is some hundred years.  Eönwë said that mine would be many times that.  It is enough for me."

"Five or six hundred years," said Elrond.  "Tis but a moment when compared to all eternity."

"And I tell you again, that moment is enough," said Elros.  "More than enough."

They were walking along the coastline and the sounds of waves and seabirds filled the air.  It was twilight and Elros pointed at the sky.  "See there.  Sometimes you see a star burning very brightly, intense, in fact.  Tomorrow night, it may not be there, all of its energy spent in the effort it took to keep it shining so brightly.  I will shine with that brief intensity"

Elrond almost smiled.  "I thought you did not wish to be a star." 

"Am I not the son of Eärendil?" asked Elros, quietly, with a wink. 

Elrond put his arm around his brother.  "Indeed yes," he sighed as they walked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elrond covered his ears with his hands but that did not block out the screams.  Water.  A huge wall of water.  He closed his eyes, trying not to look at the floating, battered bodies, but they were there, still.

"This cannot be happening," he whispered.  There were a few ships left unharmed and the living attempted to scramble aboard.  Although for the most part, they simply screamed as the angry sea claimed them.

"Elrond, Elrond!" they called out.  

"I cannot help you," he whispered.

They caught hold of his arms and shoulders, shaking him.  "Nay!" Elrond cried, "take your hands from me or I will drown as well!"

The hands let go of him abruptly and their owner stood quietly looking at him.  Elrond blinked as he focused on the concerned face of Gil-galad.  "You were seeing something," the high king said, observing the shocked expression in Elrond's eyes.  Elrond stared at him, at a loss for words. 

"You are all right," said Gil-galad.  "Calm yourself."

Elrond tried to control his breathing as he beheld his friends' and fellow soldiers' troubled faces.

"What was it?" asked Elros, quietly.

"Balar," whispered  Elrond.  "Balar is no more."

The concerned expressions quickly turned into expressions of shock.  "Speak," demanded Gil-galad, gripping Elrond's shoulders once again.

"A great wave of water," said Elrond, staring vacantly into space.  "The isle was overwhelmed."  

Gil-galad exchanged glances with Círdan.  "All are dead?" 

"Nay," said Elrond.  "Many were able to escape into ships."  He took a deep breath.  "Many were not." 

"Has this happened yet?" asked Gil-galad.

Elrond considered a moment.  "Yes," he said finally.  "It has.  It is related to all the upheavals taking place around us."

"Let us hope they find their way here," said Círdan.

"Indeed," said the high king.  He paused.  "This news removes one worry."  

"How to transport the army back to Balar?" surmised Círdan. 

"Exactly," said Gil-galad grimly.  "It appears we will be staying here."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Eldalië of Middle-earth," began Eönwë, speaking in Sindarin.  "The Curse of Mandos is hereby lifted.  Should ye wish it, ye may return to Valinor.  Thou art no longer in exile."  He paused for a moment.  "The building of ships will commence immediately.  All who are skilled in this art will offer their services. That is all, ye may depart."  He gazed over the assemblage then stepped down from the podium.  The elves stared aghast, as he strode away.

"Leave Middle-earth?" Glorfindel asked, incredulous.

"Well, I am leaving," said Elros.  "It is not an unheard of activity."

"True," said Glorfindel.  "But you have a reason, an advantage to be gained by departure.  What would our incentive be?"

"The Blessed Realm," said Erestor.  "Is that not a perfect place to be?"

"Presumably," said Elrond.  "Although I cannot say I relished my encounter with Eönwë." 

"And he is a lesser power, is he not?" asked Glorfindel.

"Maia, actually, but very great," explained Elrond. "Then there are all the Valar above him."

"Meaning what?" asked Erestor, mystified.

"The scrutiny," answered Glorfindel.

"Precisely," agreed Elrond.  "It would be as if I were back in school, the tutors directing my every move, only ten times as much."

"You would stay?" asked Elros.  "Even if all others left?"

"Nay, of course not," said Elrond.  "But it is highly unlikely that all of the Eldar will depart.  I do not doubt that there will be many who will stay."

"I include myself in that number," said a voice behind them, causing them to jump.

"You are staying, Einior-noss?"* asked Elrond, surprised.

"That is what I intend," replied Gil-galad. 

Elrond regarded him silently for a moment.  "I would be interested to know your reason."

"My sire and grandsire fought and died in these lands," said Gil-galad, "along with untold others.  I would be loathe to dismiss their efforts so lightly by leaving for no just cause.  There is much about this place that is raw and unmolded still.  I have no wish to go to a land dictated by others, established and unchangeable."  His eyes twinkled.  "I did not care much for Eönwë either."

Elrond smiled.  "It is settled then, I stay with you."

"As do I," said Glorfindel.  His eyes met Gil-galad's and for a moment, something passed between them.

Elrond noticed the exchange.  "What is it?" he asked, looking at both of them in turn.

"Nothing at all," said Gil-galad, tearing his eyes away from Glorfindel.  "Erestor, you have been silent, what is your choice?"

Erestor smiled.  "I stay with my friends and I serve my King, of course."

Celeborn had been standing off to one side while Gil-galad conversed with his young subjects, a small smile curling the edges of his lips.  Gil-galad looked over at him and raised his eyebrows.

"Galadriel will never return to Valinor," Celeborn said in answer to the unspoken question.  "Naturally, I am staying."

"Which leads us to another decision," said Gil-galad.  Celeborn waited, expectantly.  "Balar is no more and all who survived are here.  Where shall we go?"  There was complete silence as all and sundry digested this query and its implications.

"I would imagine," said Celeborn, "it will all depend on what is left above sea level, and what is not."

"True," said Gil-galad with a smile.  "Come to my tent, let us study some maps."

The young elves looked at each other in silence for a moment after their elders had departed. 

"What of Elwing?" Elros asked his brother.  

"What of her?" 

"You have the chance to return to Valinor, to see her, do you not wish it?" 

"As far as I could ascertain from Mahtan," said Elrond, "it would not be permitted.  She stays in her white tower and does not walk among the people."

"Perhaps you would be allowed into the tower," said Elros.

There was a long pause as Elrond reflected on this. "Perhaps I would be, that is a possibility."  He paused again and his companions waited anxiously for his next words.  

Elrond looked around at the serious apprehensive faces.  "Elwing is my mother.  But you are my family, all of you.  I would not exchange that for a vague dream of a mother and son reunion.  This thought does not alter my plans to stay here."

Glorfindel and Erestor broke into wide grins as they all three embraced at once.  

Elrond turned to face his brother.  "You, Elros Peredhil." 

"Yes?" asked Elros with a lift of his eyebrow. 

Elrond smiled.  "As your company commander, I order you to spend some time with your brother before you depart for your new life."

Elros placed his hands on his twin's shoulders. "So has it been ordered, so shall it be done."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gil-galad held the tent flap aside and followed his companion inside.  Celeborn unrolled a map from the pile on the table and scowled at it.  "We are here," he indicated, "at Lothlann."  Gil-galad looked over his shoulder.  "Note the elevation," Celeborn continued.  

"There is none," observed Gil-galad. 

"Exactly," said Celeborn.  "There is every likelihood that Lothlann will be claimed by the sea."

The high king grunted his agreement.  

"I suggest we look to the south," said Celeborn.  "As we approach Ossiriand, we see a flat plain at the foot of the mountains, but quite a bit higher than Lothlann."

"Plentiful water supply," said Gil-galad, noting the abundance of rivers in the area.

"This map indicates a small settlement established at Lanthir," remarked Celeborn.

"Humans?" 

"I suspect not.  In all probability, Green elves."

"Yes," mused Gil-galad, "You are most likely correct.  Do you suppose they would object to an influx of forty thousand soldiers and refugees?"

Celeborn smirked.  "I hardly think they will be in a position to have much say in the matter if I know you."

Gil-galad raised his eyebrows, offended.  "Are you calling my people invasive, Lord Celeborn?"

"Indeed yes," said Celeborn.  "Proud and stubborn as well."

Gil-galad glared at him.  "You, a Teleri, speak to me of pride and stubbornness?"

"Certainly," said Celeborn, "for there are none more haughty and willful than the Noldor, this is well known."

"The Noldor," said Gil-galad, becoming incensed, "have behind them a great lineage and heritage. . . ." 

"As do the Teleri," interrupted Celeborn.  "Excluding kinslaying, of course." 

"The House of Fingolfin . . . ," began Gil-galad, his voice rising.

"Was directly responsible . . . ," yelled Celeborn.

"My Lords!" exclaimed Gildor, poking his head inside the tent flap.  "You are attracting a crowd out here, please cease." 

Gil-galad and Celeborn stared at each other for a moment.  "Ossiriand it is," said Celeborn, finally.

"Yes indeed," agreed Gil-galad darkly.  "It seems a most promising area."

"Possibly a major port in the future, as well," said Celeborn, scowling.

"That would be a great asset," said Gil-galad, evenly.

"I am so glad we had this conversation," said Celeborn, lying.

"As am I," said Gil-galad, his eyes narrow.

"So, we shall build a great city together," said Celeborn, his teeth clenched.

"I am looking forward to it," Gil-galad muttered under his breath.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Elder kinsman.            


	11. Chapter 21

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past**  
by: DLR 2002

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

_The Second Age of Middle-earth  
The year One  
Lindon (Ossiriand)_

**Chapter 21**

"She is watching you, Elrond," said Erestor with a smirk.

Elrond looked up briefly from the building plan he was perusing.  "Not really," he concluded, returning to his study.

"She cannot take her eyes off of you," continued Erestor.  

Elrond snorted.  "Perchance it is you she is gazing at so intently."

"Nay, I think I would realize that," said Erestor.  He nudged Elrond with his elbow.  "Go and speak with her."

Elrond regarded his friend with a glint in his eye.  "Leave it be, will you?  I have no need for a matchmaker."

"Fine," said Erestor, putting his hands in the air and feigning offence. "I will no longer mention it."

The elven female was indeed staring at the construction site and Elrond could not help stealing glances at her after Erestor had moved away.  She was very beautiful and he felt his pulse quicken.  An uneasy feeling of foreboding filled his stomach.

Elrond shook his head and turned away, trying to throw off the dismal shroud that threatened to engulf him.  When he looked up a while later, she was gone and he was able to breathe again.

The young elf was subdued and introspective the remainder of the day, attending to his work at the building site, but preoccupied. 

"What is ailing you?" asked Glorfindel at dinner.  Elrond was quiet.

"He is in love," said Erestor, taking his life in his hands.

Elrond turned cold grey eyes to his friend and looked at him, his silence and demeanor speaking volumes.  There was a long pause as Erestor visibly quailed beneath the intense stare.  

Glorfindel looked at both his friends and intervened.  "You," he said to Erestor, "you are too much of a jester."  He slapped him on the back.  "Go now, before you find yourself in trouble."

Glorfindel turned his eyes back to Elrond as Erestor made a hasty departure.  He watched his friend eat for a while, making no comment.  "Do you wish to discuss it?" 

"There is nothing to discuss," Elrond replied, between bites.

"Should you need an ear," said Glorfindel with his hand on Elrond's shoulder, "you know where to find me," he added as he rose and departed, leaving Elrond alone with his thoughts.

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The pain was intense. He could feel it all through his buttocks and upper thighs, radiating outwards.  He reached back to massage himself, to ease the ache and his hand encountered a wet sticky substance.  Elrond brought it up before his face and tried to focus.  

His hand was covered in blood.

His eyes snapped open and he sat up with a jerk.  Sweat broke out through every pore in his skin and he breathed heavily, his heart pounding.

He folded his arms across his chest and gripped his shoulders tightly, waiting for his body to relax.

Glorfindel stirred groggily in the next bed.  "What is it?  What is wrong?" he asked, seeing Elrond sitting up in his bed, shaking. 

"Just another nightmare," whispered Elrond.  "Go back to sleep, tis nothing."

"I do not suppose you remember any of it?" 

"Nay, of course not," replied Elrond.  "I never do."

Glorfindel sat up on the edge of his bed.  "They might cease, if you could just remember something," he suggested, wondering if he should ask some leading questions.

"Somehow," said Elrond, "I have a feeling I am better off not knowing.  It is bad enough to be terrified when asleep, but to see the images when conscious as well would be very troubling."

"Hmm," said Glorfindel, pondering this, relieved.  "Perhaps you are right."

"Do not concern yourself," said Elrond.  "I have had these dreams for many years, I am accustomed to them."

Glorfindel looked sadly at his friend.  "It pains me to see you suffer," he whispered.  

Elrond returned his gaze.  "I am fine.  Truly."  There was a pause. 

"What was all of that with Erestor earlier?" asked Glorfindel.

Elrond looked around the room at the sleeping elves and lowered his voice.  "It was nothing, really.  Erestor will have his jest.  It was merely some female at the site today, staring at me, that is all."

Glorfindel raised his eyebrows.  "A secret admirer?"

Elrond smiled a little.  "She did not look as though she was keeping any secrets, she seemed quite forthright."

"Hmm, yes, staring at you like that," said Glorfindel.  "So why did this upset you so much?"  

Elrond frowned.  "I am not certain.  It all seemed somewhat strange.  I felt frightened, somehow."

"Well, you have been with a female before," said Glorfindel, " this is not something new."

"I have?" asked Elrond with wide eyes.  "When was this?  I seem to have missed it," he said with astonishment.

Glorfindel bit his tongue, surprised actually that he had not made this mistake more often over the years.  "Ah yes, it was not you, I am thinking of someone else," he said brightly, wondering why Elrond would have forgotten this encounter as well.

"Indeed you are," said Elrond.  "I think I would remember an intimate encounter with a female."

Glorfindel was glad that Elrond could probably not discern the expression on his face in the dim moonlight.  "Well, that most likely explains why you were frightened, if being with a female is a new experience."

"Yes, possibly that is true," said Elrond and he paused for a minute.  "I had thought that attraction to someone would be a more pleasant sensation."

"Ah," said Glorfindel.  "I am sure it will be, eventually, once you meet her."

Elrond brightened.  "There is a positive thought. I will try to have dreams on that."

"That is a plan," said Glorfindel, smiling.

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"There she is," said Elrond, "see, sitting on the bench."

"She is lovely," said Glorfindel appreciatively, wondering where he had seen her before.

"Indeed," said Elrond.  He turned away suddenly.  "Nay, I cannot do it," he whispered.

"What, why?  Where are you going?" asked Glorfindel, puzzled. 

"I look at her and I feel ill."

"Pay it no mind," said Glorfindel, "tis merely nerves."

"I fear it goes well beyond nerves," said Elrond, his complexion taking on a green tinge.

Glorfindel placed his hand on Elrond's arm and guided him away from the bench.  "What is it you wish to do?" 

"If I knew the answer to that," said Elrond, "I would not be standing here talking to you."

Glorfindel smirked.  "You do not wish to approach her," he surmised, "so do not, let it be."

"I do wish it," said Elrond, "and I do not wish it, as well."

"Let it be, until you are certain."

Elrond turned towards him.  "So, you are saying, do not approach her?" 

"I am," said Glorfindel.  

"You have never given good advice in the past," said Elrond.  "Why should this occasion be any different?"

Glorfindel opened his mouth, said nothing, and then closed it again.  "Fine, do as you will," he said, washing his hands of the matter.

Elrond took a deep breath and walked up to the bench once again.  "Excuse me," he started.

She looked up at him and her beautiful blue eyes turned cold.  "I thought that was you, although I could not be sure from a distance.  Why do you even approach me?  I care not what you have to say."

Elrond's eyes grew wide and he was speechless for a moment.  "Why do you speak to me in this manner, Lady?" 

She snorted and looked at him with disdain.  "Tis no less than you deserve."

Elrond ran his fingers through his hair and was dumbfounded. Finally, he managed to ask the wrong question.  "Have we met before?"

She stood up in silence. She took a step closer and looked at him for a moment.  He was totally unprepared as she slapped him hard across the face.  She did not utter a word as she turned and walked away.

Glorfindel was at Elrond's side in an instant.  "What in the name of Mandos was that all about?" he hissed, wondering if Elrond's seduction techniques required serious overhaul.

"I . . . . I . . . ." stammered Elrond, completely in shock.  "She . . .  I have absolutely no clue."  He stared after her for a long moment, then turned and abruptly walked in the opposite direction, leaving his friend to gaze after him in astonishment.

It came to Glorfindel in a sudden flash.  _The Palace on Balar.  That is where he had seen her before.  He smiled grimly as he realized where he could find answers to his questions._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  


	12. Chapter 22

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past**  
by: DLR 2002

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

  
**Chapter 22**

"I am at your disposal, O golden haired one," said Gil-galad with sarcasm, between bites.

Glorfindel waited for the high king to finish chewing.  "When Elrond was sent away to school, some years ago, what precipitated this event?"

"You wish to know if there was a specific reason for this decision?" 

"I wish to know what happened between Elrond and a chamber maid," responded Glorfindel.

"Ah," said Gil-galad.  He paused a minute before answering.  "Elrond raped her."

Glorfindel sat in stunned silence for a few moments.

"Nay, I am not talking violence, or anger, or intent to hurt, mind you," Gil-galad amended, "but she was unwilling and Elrond pushed it to completion."

Glorfindel found his voice.  "He mentioned this encounter to me once, and described it in positive terms."

Gil-galad's face took on a pained expression.  "Elrond had no idea, at the time, he was doing something wrong.  It would not surprise me if he still did not realize all the implications of his actions."

"Well," said Glorfindel with a sneer, "he did not have the best instructor in morality, did he?"

"Nay," said Gil-galad quietly, looking at his plate. "He did not."

There was an uncomfortable pause.  "So, why do you ask?" inquired the high king.

"She is here, in Lindon," responded Glorfindel. 

Gil-galad looked worried.  "Elrond has seen her?" 

"Indeed yes," said Glorfindel.  "He has seen her, she has seen him, emotions erupted, she struck him across the face and he has no idea why."

"So he does not remember that encounter either?" 

"Nay, he does not," said Glorfindel.  "Even her presence does not stir memories."

"That is not surprising," said Gil-galad.  "My presence does not stir memories either."

"Thank Eru for that," Glorfindel muttered.

Gil-galad looked at him darkly.  "I will spend the rest of my life trying to make that up to him.  You have no idea how I have suffered for past mistakes."

Glorfindel returned Gil-galad's dark look.  "You do not know what suffering is," he said with some heat.  "Perhaps you should experience some of Elrond's nightmares, should you care to learn about suffering." 

"I was young, I knew nothing about being a parent."  

"Parents do not lust after their children," said Glorfindel through clenched teeth.  "Youth is no excuse.  It was wrong and you knew it."  He held Gil-galad's eyes for a long moment.

"You are correct," the high king said quietly.  "For what it is worth, I do not know the person who committed those acts.  He is a stranger to me, an alien being, a demon perhaps.  I hope and pray that he is banished, now, forever."

Gil-galad closed his eyes.  "That last time," he whispered.  "It seemed so harmless.  And then Iraldë, covered in blood.   Elrond's blood.  My dreams will be haunted by that sight through all eternity."

Glorfindel snickered.  "And well they should be, Sire," he said with a sneer.  "Tis no less than you deserve."

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  


"Do not fret so," said Glorfindel gently.  "She has obviously mistaken you for someone else."

"Nay," said Elrond.  "There is more to it than that.  I most definitely feel a lapse of some sort.  There is something here I should know, but do not."  He pondered it a moment.  "Perhaps I should seek her out and explain."

Glorfindel closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath.  "Let us speculate here for a moment.  Suppose her to be correct and you have done something hateful to her, yet you do not remember it, for whatever reason.  If you were she, would you really want to talk to you?"

"I suppose not," said Elrond, troubled.  "How else do I find out what has happened?"

"You do not know that anything has actually happened," said Glorfindel, "not for certain.  I see no reason to antagonize her any further.  If there is something there, better that you remember on your own."  He paused for a moment.  "So, I do not give good advice?"

"Nay," said Elrond.  "You said 'do as you will' and look at the trouble it landed me into.  You should have told me to let it be."

Glorfindel stared at Elrond in bemused astonishment.  "Tis a good thing you are my friend.  If you were my enemy, you would be dying a very painful, slow, lingering death right now."

"If I were your enemy," said Elrond, grinning widely, "you would not be still alive to watch my slow lingering death."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_The Second Age of Middle-earth, 442   
Lindon_

He could see him clearly in his mind's eye, as he had many times during the last four hundred years.  There was a difference to this gathering at his bedside, a finality. 

He lay prone on the bed, his family attending him, sons, daughters and grandchildren.  Elrond knew many of them, having watched them grow through Elros' eyes.  

  


Four hundred years of observing his brother's joys and sorrows, the pleasure he took from having a wife and family, the satisfaction he received from ordering his kingdom about in a manner of his own liking.

Four hundred years of completing his own education, studying, transcribing and amassing knowledge, learning the nuances of the administration of a city under Gil-galad's tutelage.

And now . . .  this was it.  This was the end. 

As Elros inhaled his last breath, he directed his thoughts toward his brother.  Elrond closed his eyes and received the vision, opening his mind as though it were a receptacle to be filled.  His breathing grew heavier as the connection deepened, matching the labored breath of his twin.  

Elrond slipped into a trance, soul to soul with the one closest to his heart.

_I leave you now, gwanunig-nîn, _said the voice of Elros.  _Sundered in body we have been, this last_ _half century, now to be sundered in spirit as well.  I love you, Elrond, and pray to be able to maintain our connection, if not in this world, then perhaps in the next._

The vision grew dim and as the life went out of the tired, aged body, a light went out inside of Elrond.  He opened his eyes to a black aching void, his soul-mate gone forever.

His throat constricted and he could not breathe.  He made a choking, gasping noise as he rose from the dining hall table and fled the room.

Someone pursued him, but Elrond ran faster, winding his way through the darkened, empty streets of the city.  He reached the edge of one of the many rivers that flowed through Lindon, feeding into the sea, and without hesitation, jumped into the water.

Although he was a strong swimmer, he was winded from running and totally unprepared for the swiftness of the current and the strong undertow, swelled by the melting snows of the mountains to the east.  __

He was pulled beneath the surface and his strength waned, his struggles to emerge, fruitless.  He managed to grab onto a protruding rock and hold on for a while, but eventually felt his fingers sliding away, unable to maintain their grasp, numb with cold.

He started to choke, but not from drowning, someone had him firmly by the collar, pulling him out.  Elrond felt dry land beneath his hands as he coughed and sputtered.  He closed his eyes and vomited, expelling the river water from his body.

"Good, good, get it all out," said Gil-galad with encouragement.

Elrond obliged him by vomiting once more.  He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and sat panting next to the fast-moving water.  Gil-galad pounded his back a few more times as an added measure.

"Stay, I will be fine," gasped Elrond.  They sat in silence for some time while their breathing returned to normal.

"Elros?" the high king finally guessed.

"Yes," said Elrond, the anguish returning to the forefront of his mind.

"Tell me."

Elrond closed his eyes tightly and gripped his knees with white knuckled fingers.  "He is gone, Ereinion," he whispered, "totally gone.  He is not on Arda, he is not in Mandos, he is gone completely.  I feel no sign of him any more."

Gil-galad showed a small smile at the use of his private father name, Elrond had never addressed him so personally before.

"Perhaps that is the way of the Atani," he said gently.  "I would not know, never having had a deep connection to any."

"I had not realized mortality would be so final," said Elrond.  "Why should the immortal only be able to reincarnate and not the mortal as well?  We live long enough as it is, tis the mortals that need another chance."

"I am in complete agreement with you," said Gil-galad, reaching out to touch Elrond's shoulder, but pulling back hastily before his foster son could note it.  The light wind had dried the dripping water from their bodies, somewhat, but Elrond's face remained wet.

"I should not be sorrowful," he said.  "Elros lived a very full life; he experienced every thing I still hope to, someday, he merely did it at a quicker pace."  Elrond wiped his sleeve across his face once more.  "He died happy, with no regrets.  In many ways I envy him."

"You spend too much time alone in the library, brooding," said the high king.  "You need to get out more, meet people, fall in love, perhaps?" His eyes twinkled.

"I am in love with my studies," said Elrond seriously, but with a glint growing in his own eye.  "There will be plenty of time to pursue each interest to its finish."

"I perceive in you a true immortal, neth istul nosse,"* smiled Gil-galad.  "You will have all these joys in time, in a manner of your own choosing." 

"Aye, indeed," said Elrond, suppressing a shiver.

"Dry clothes may be of some help to improve your spirits," suggested Gil-galad.

"Did you mention spirits?" asked Elrond, brightening.

"A mug of hot mead sounds appealing?" asked Gil-galad with a lifted eyebrow.

"Indeed yes," said Elrond with a sigh.  "Quite possibly several."

The high king helped him to his feet and they walked silently back through the city, each preoccupied with his own thoughts.

Is it truly for the best, Gil-galad wondered, that he does not remember?

_That is what you wish, is it not? _said a voice in his head.

I know not, he responded.

_His absence of memory has been a blessing for you, no confrontations._

Except from Glorfindel . . .

_Glorfindel!  What do you care of Glorfindel?  He has no power against your office._

He is always there, though, a constant reminder, an irritant. 

_If that is all the penance you do, you can count yourself lucky._

Gil-galad sighed.  But what of Elrond?

_What of him?  What do you care for Elrond?_

I do care, I love him.

_Love him?  Better for him if you hated him, perhaps._

I do love him and not in that way anymore . . . .

The voice smirked.  _You do not know what love is, Ereinion King, you are truly a flawed being._

Please, cease this endless torment . . . .

_Nay, this is only the beginning, my Lord High King, when you consider the depth of the wrong you did to that child._

He is fine, look at him.  Hisdistress over the death of his brother is unrelated.

_Fine you say?  You wish to look at him?  Let us do so.  He is nearly five hundred years old.  Most are married with families at that age.  Not Elrond.  He hides himself away in the library.  Nay, do not talk about thirst for knowledge, he hides._

_He is shy of physical contact; he flinches if anyone touches him.  He has nightmares.  He has no interest in intimate relationships of any kind.  He has few friends . . ._

He does have Glorfindel.

_Thank Eru for Glorfindel; he is able to adapt his friendship to be whatever Elrond needs, without strings or judgment._

So, is it better he should remember?  Or not?

_He will remember when he is strong enough to deal with the pain; you do him no favors forcing it upon him._

Gil-galad sighed once more.

"Ereinion," said Elrond, pausing in his stride.  "What is all of this constant heaving of your chest?  Whatever are you thinking about?"

The high king was startled out of his thoughts.  "Nothing," he said quickly.  "I am merely endeavoring to expel some water left from my own foray into the river."

"Ah," said Elrond.  "Are you in need of assistance?" he asked, and he began to pound his king and cousin on the back.

"Indeed," said Gil-galad with a grimace, enduring it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Young learned kinsman 


	13. Chapter 23

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past  
**by: DLR 2002

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

  
_The Second Age of Middle-earth, the Year 750  
Lindon_  
  


**Chapter 23**

The high king could not believe his ears.  He arched his eyebrows eloquently.  "Dwarves?" he asked, incredulous.  "You plan on removing yourself from Mithlond to live with dwarves?"

"Nay," said Celebrimbor, holding up his hands and shaking his head.  "Calm yourself.  Not with them, near them, a joint venture.  I will help Celeborn and Galadriel build a new city, close enough to Hadhodrond* to have access to the mithril mine."

"Ah," said Gil-galad.  "So that is at the heart of this, mithril."

"As much as I have enjoyed helping Círdan and you also, I yearn to return to my first love, mining," said Celebrimbor.

"Hmmph," snorted Gil-galad.  "Are you positive you have no dwarven blood inside you?"

"Perish the thought," smiled Celebrimbor.

They were walking through the palace gardens and the summer flowers were at the peak of their beauty, sweet fragrance and butterflies filled the air.  Not far away, Elrond could be seen, sitting under a leafy tree, reading intently.  Celebrimbor noted him.  "I see the son of Eärendil is with you still."

"Yes of course," said Gil-galad.  "He has finished school, seen military service in Beleriand, where he acquitted himself well as a company commander.  Since the defeat of the Enemy, he has shown great talent in the administration of the city."

Celebrimbor smiled.  "I can see you are very proud of him, but I was not interested in a list of his accomplishments."

Gil-galad was quiet, but Celebrimbor persisted.  "Based on what I know of the past, I am curious about whether you and he . . ."

"Nay," said Gil-galad quickly.  "That was done, long ago, when he went away to school."

"It pleases me that you took my advice in that matter," said Celebrimbor.  "So he has suffered no lasting effects?"

"He has had his difficulties," said Gil-galad vaguely.  "Pray, do not mention this, he would not wish to know we were discussing him."

"Nay, of course not," said Celebrimbor.  He paused.  "I hope you are not starting problems for any new blood," he added bluntly.

Gil-galad's eyebrows drew together.  "Firstly, whoever I take into my bed is my own business."  He relaxed slightly.  "Secondly, it will please you to know that I have followed your advice in that matter as well."

"So, no more young ones?"  

"No more anyone," said Gil-galad.  "For the better part of this last millennium, I have warmed my own bed."

Celebrimbor stopped walking and his mouth fell open in astonishment.  "I am sorry to doubt you, Sire, but I know you too well to believe that."

"I have changed," said Gil-galad quietly.  Celebrimbor snorted.  "I will not go into the whys and wherefores," continued Gil-galad, "for they are not your concern.  Suffice it to say that I speak the truth."

Celebrimbor looked unconvinced.  "Believe it or not, as you wish," said Gil-galad.

"You do indeed sound most serious," observed Celebrimbor.

"I am the High King," said Gil-galad with a sigh.  "The King is above any laws. I am Elrond's only kin so who is there to chastise me?  The duty has fallen to me and I accept it, until such time as the Valar claim the right.  I will enjoy no more pleasures of the flesh.  I will take no wife, nor produce any heirs.  Upon my death, the kingdom will fall to Elrond and his issue.

"Eru knows, this is not nearly enough punishment, but fear not, there will be a special place in Mandos for me, I am certain."

Celebrimbor regarded him for a moment.  "All of this remorse stems from my admonishment?" 

"Somewhat," said Gil-galad quickly.  "There were other factors."

"I commend you on your new purity of spirit," said Celebrimbor.

"Tis not new to me," said Gil-galad, "only to you."

"But admirable, none the less."

"Do not admire me," said Gil-galad.  "I deserve it not."  There was a pause.

"There is something about this that seems concealed from me still," said Celebrimbor with narrowed eyes.  "But so long as your motives are pure, I will pursue it no longer."

"Meaning you still have your doubts."

"Meaning the change is quite startling."

"So you have said already," stated Gil-galad, becoming annoyed. 

Celebrimbor held up his hands.  "I concede.  I believe you and will broach the subject no more."

Gil-galad broke into a smile and slapped his friend on the back.  "Let us turn to more cheerful subjects.  Such as living with dwarves."  

                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elrond looked up from his anatomy book and watched his cousin walking in the garden.  The elf with him looked familiar, but he could not place him, the memory always staying just out of his reach.

He brushed away an annoying insect and returned his attention to the volume in his lap.  _What is the matter with me?_  _Why is there always some undercurrent of uneasy memories, just beneath the surface of my mind?  Perhaps I am remembering another life. _ He considered, trying to recall all he knew about reincarnation.  _If it were my past life, one would think I would remember it.  Was it possible for a stranger to reincarnate inside me?_  He frowned at his book. 

"Scowling at it will not make it any easier to comprehend," said a voice above him.

Elrond looked up, his face breaking into a smile of genuine happiness.  "You are back!"

"Very observant of you," answered Glorfindel.  "You are certainly pleased to see me, I am flattered."  

Elrond's smile faded.  "I confess I have missed you.  Images have been troubling me, nightmares, well, you know."

"Can you speak of them?" asked Glorfindel, concerned.

"Nay, not in any tangible way," answered Elrond, "but they are easier to handle when you are here."

"I am always happy to be of assistance," returned Glorfindel, sitting down beside him. 

"It is as though you already know what I am going to say.  Tis comforting some how."

"Hmm, yes," said Glorfindel, shifting his position as if he sat on something sharp.

"What do you know of reincarnation?" asked Elrond suddenly. 

"Nothing, nothing at all," said Glorfindel. "You are definitely asking the wrong person that question."

"Ah, well, pay no heed then," said Elrond.  "Twas merely a thought."

"Why do you ask?" 

"These dreams, these nightmares," answered Elrond.  "They almost seem to belong to another life.  I feel someone else's memories as well, so near I can touch them, but at the same time, unreachable."

"Hmm, yes," repeated Glorfindel, concerned once more.  "Do you feel you are getting closer?"

"Nay, not really.  The dreams seem more frequent, but blocked still," admitted Elrond.  He paused and looked around.  "Who is that elf with the king?" 

Glorfindel squinted at him.  "He looks familiar, but I know not.  Why?"

Elrond shrugged.  "I thought so as well, but it is nothing."  He grew distracted as two attractive young females walked by, giggling over some private joke.

Glorfindel noted his interest.  "Do you know them?" 

"Nay," said Elrond quickly, looking at his book.

"Would you like to know them?" persisted Glorfindel.

"Yes," said Elrond, "and no," he amended.  His voice lowered.  "Lately, I have felt these   . . . urges."

Glorfindel smiled.  "That is quite normal, it is instinct, inherent."

"Nay," worried Elrond.  "This does not feel normal, it feels uncontrollable in fact.  It frightens me at times and I fear my behavior may become less than respectable."

Glorfindel raised his eyebrows.  "In that case, perhaps you should meet someone less than respectable."

Elrond stared at him, uncomprehending.

"Someone who will help you with the urges," Glorfindel explained.

Elrond still stared, saying nothing.

"A prostitute," said Glorfindel bluntly.

Elrond's mouth fell open.  "You know one?" 

"I know several," answered his friend.  "Let me take you to meet them."

"I do not know about this," said Elrond, warily.  "It seems I should be trying to repress the urges, not give in to them."

"That will not work," argued Glorfindel.  "We are talking about a basic need, like sleep, or hunger.  Will ignoring those cause them to go away?"

"A basic need?" asked Elrond, unconvinced.  "I hardly think so.  To you, maybe."

Glorfindel sighed.  "I am not the one complaining of uncontrollable urges.  Just come and see.  You may leave if you wish."

"Well," Elrond considered reluctantly.   

"You have nothing to lose."

"My reputation perhaps."

"We are males," snorted Glorfindel.  "We are not required to have any reputation."

Elrond raised an eyebrow.  "I value mine, even if you do not."

Glorfindel sighed once more.  "If you wish to go, advise me of it, I weary of this discussion." He moved to leave.

"I wish to go," Elrond whispered suddenly, stopping him.

Glorfindel smiled.  "Fine then, let us do so."

They made their way to the stables and saddled horses.  From there, Elrond followed his friend into the city.

He was thoughtful as they rode, worried and apprehensive as well.  He had not told Glorfindel everything about his dreams, it was too embarrassing.  He also had no inkling as to why he should have such odd dreams.

Dreams?  Nay, they were nightmares.  How many times had he awoken shaking, afraid, sweating and also . . . aroused.   On occasion his need was very apparent and unsated.  At other times it was most obvious that he had climaxed while asleep, although he remembered no details.

He had experienced the dreams nearly as long as he could remember, since he was very young.  He did not think they had always been sexual, but that aspect was becoming more and more frequent.  So much so, that it preyed on his mind during waking hours as well,_ hence the need_ _for this excursion into new territory today,_ Elrond thought wryly.

He became aware that Glorfindel was dismounting in front of a well-kept two story house in a pleasant neighborhood.

"I do not know if you have any preconceptions," remarked Glorfindel.  "But these ladies are very nice.  They may have no reputations, but they expect to be treated in a mannerly way, deservedly so." 

Elrond dismounted as well.  "What are you suggesting?" 

"Nothing," said Glorfindel quickly.  "I merely stress that they are to be treated as ladies," he added, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. "There will be no activities disagreeable to them."

"Why do you tell me this?" asked Elrond, worried.  "Are you aware of something I am not?"

"Nay, of course not," said Glorfindel brightly.  "Enough of this, come inside."

They were escorted into a modestly furnished sitting room and left to wait.  There was a decanter of spirits on a side table and Glorfindel poured two glasses.  He handed one to Elrond who downed it in one swallow.

Glorfindel smirked.  "Nervous?" 

"Indeed yes," replied Elrond.  At that moment a lady entered the room.

"Finglor," she exclaimed, embracing Glorfindel.

"My lady Elewen," he responded with a wink at Elrond.  "May I present my friend, Rondir?" 

Elrond bowed over her outstretched hand.

"Ah, you young handsome males," she sighed.  "I wish I were a thousand years younger."

"You are like fine wine," said Glorfindel, always the charmer.  "Age increases your beauty."

Elewen slapped his hand playfully, which was occupied caressing one of her nearly exposed breasts.  "It has been sometime since I had a bedmate," she said demurely.  "I do not suppose you would be inclined . . . ?" She raised her eyebrows.

"I would be honored, dear lady," Glorfindel breathed in her ear, his arm encircling her waist, his lips exploring her neck.

"Stay," she said, pushing him away, but very pleased, nonetheless. "I must get your friend settled first." 

Elrond had been watching this interplay with a very amused expression on his face.  His worries returned full force as Elewen turned her attention back to him.

"Follow me please," she said, smiling.  Elewen led Elrond up a set of stairs to a similar sitting room.  She motioned for him to wait and she stepped through a side door.  When she returned, she was followed by half a dozen females.

"Choose, please," she instructed.  

Elrond stood frozen as he gazed at the array of beauties before him.  His eyes locked with the third female in the line and his pulse quickened.  His face grew pink as he indicated his choice to Elewen.

She smiled and patted his arm reassuringly.  Elewen beckoned to the young lady in question and dismissed the rest.  "Rondir," she said, "this is Isolde."  She smiled.  "I leave you two to get acquainted."

Suddenly, they were alone.  Elrond lost heart and retreated.  "This may, perhaps, be a mistake."

Isolde smiled at him.  "We could just talk," she suggested.   

Elrond sighed with relief and disappointment both at once.  "This is a good idea.  We will just talk."   

She smiled slyly at him.  She shifted the robe she wore until her shoulders were bare, revealing most of her very alluring bosom.

Elrond's heart skipped a beat as he gazed with admiration at the exposed parts of Isolde.  She noted his attention and with slow movements, dropped the garment to the floor.

Elrond's jaw dropped along with the robe and he stared at her as if she were the most fascinating thing on Arda.  Isolde looked coyly at him from beneath lowered eyelids.  "I think, perhaps, you are overdressed for this occasion?" 

Elrond hesitated only a moment, before taking her advice, peeling off his clothing with haste.  He then stood still once more, just looking at her.

She placed her hands on his chest and stroked him lightly.  She moved lower, trailing her fingers across his stomach, running them through his hair, stroking his most sensitive areas.  He flinched noticeably at her touch, but allowed the soft caress to continue.

He moaned as her warm lips made contact with his hot flesh and his knees suddenly felt very weak.  Elrond slowly became aware of a different feeling as he opened his eyes and looked at her. 

"Stay," he gasped, backing away, swallowing the bile rising in his throat.  

She relinquished him and sat back on her heels.  "You are ready to proceed?" 

"One moment," whispered Elrond as he fought down his nausea.  He placed his hands on his knees and panted for a few minutes.  His stomach became calm and he felt Isolde running her fingers through his hair.

"You are very nervous," she observed.

"Apparently," agreed Elrond.

She took his hand and led him to the bed.  She lay back on the pillows, and with a small smile, parted her legs.

Elrond nearly fainted with desire.  With a great effort he swallowed hard and pushed away the unwelcome queasiness.  He positioned himself and attempted entrance. 

"Stay a moment."  She picked up a bottle of oil.  Elrond gasped at her touch as she guided him and he groaned with pleasure as her heat engulfed him.

Every movement increased the delicious ache through his loins until the pressure became unbearable.  He moaned out her name as he sated his passion in a burst of motion.

"What did you call me?" asked Isolde.

"Isolde, your name of course," replied Elrond, panting.

"Nay, you called me 'Lindórië.' " 

Elrond froze.  "Lindórië," he repeated, his eyes wide with shock.

"Your girlfriend?" teased Isolde.

Elrond became absolutely still.  He closed his eyes and his head began to pound.  "Lindórië," he whispered again.  "Oh, Eru, please no," he said, closing his eyes tighter.

"What is wrong," asked Isolde, "are you all right?"  

"No," Elrond replied, with anguish.  "Lindórië, I am so sorry."

He saw her again in the park; his cheek felt again the sting of her slap as she struck him.  He felt again her anger and bitterness and understood it, finally. 

"Rondir?  Are you all right?" Isolde repeated.

"Do not worry yourself," Elrond said, wiping his hand across his eyes.  He rose and dressed quickly.  When he had finished, he leaned toward the girl still lying on the bed.  "Thank you," he said as he kissed her.

"You are welcome," Isolde responded, full of concern for this stranger she had only just met.  Something about him had touched her, something very, very sad.

Elrond reached out and stroked her cheek.  A moment passed, and then he took his leave.

He was seated on his horse waiting, when Glorfindel finally came outside.  The golden-haired elf mounted his horse and turned towards his friend.  The smile he was sporting dropped when he saw the look on Elrond's face.

"Oh Mandos," he said, worried.  "What is ailing you?"

"The female in the park," Elrond said quietly.  "Did you recognize her?"

Glorfindel's heart sank.  "Not at first.  You have remembered something?"

Elrond nodded.  "Yes."

"What, exactly?" questioned Glorfindel nervously.

"Lindórië," Elrond explained.  "Everything that happened with her.  Twas she in the park that day."  He glanced at Glorfindel.  "I never told you very much about that."

Glorfindel held up his hand.  "Stay, you do not need to.  After she struck you, I recognized her as a servant from Balar.  I asked the king about her and he told me." 

"Ah," said Elrond.  He frowned suddenly and closed his eyes.  He heard a far away voice.  _What is the difference,_ _how old should I be?  _The frown on his face deepened but the voice faded away before he could place it.  He opened his eyes to find Glorfindel looking at him intently.

"Well," Elrond asked.  "Should I try to find her?"

"Possibly," said Glorfindel.  "I fail to see how the situation could get any worse; you may as well attempt amends."

Elrond nodded.  "I agree."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had taken close to three months, but finally they were face to face once more.  Lindórië listened to Elrond in silence, staring at her white-knuckled hands clasped together on the table top.  When she spoke, she addressed her remarks to her fingers.

"It seems quite amazing, really.  How could you possibly forget causing the worst day of my life?"

"I know not," he whispered.  "Perhaps for that very reason, because it was a horrible memory."

They were quiet again.  "Is this your father's house?" Elrond asked nervously.

"Nay, my father perished in the sinking of Balar.  This is my husband's house."

"You are married?" Elrond asked, relieved.  

"Yes indeed," she said with a small smile. "I was lucky enough to find a very understanding person."

"I am so happy for you," responded Elrond.

"You are happy to feel less guilty and without obligation."

"I am happy my actions did not ruin your life," he explained.

She lifted her head and looked at him.  "You have not mentioned yet what drove you to those actions."

"I swear, Lindórië," he whispered with anguish, "I did not know it was wrong.  I do not know why I did what I did; it seemed so natural as I remember it now.  And you did not protest all that much," he added mumbling, looking down.

"Stop means stop," she said quietly.

He closed his eyes and hot tears stung the inside of his eyelids.  "I am sorry, Lindórië, I am truly sorry."

She looked at him with moist eyes as well.  "It seems your own conscience will be a fitting torment for you.  With one mind I rejoice, but on the other hand, I realize you did not act in violence or anger and I pity you in the end, after all.  I had one worst day; it appears you will have many."

She guided Elrond out the door and left him there.  He stayed on the doorstep for some time, watching the warm day descend into the cold blackness of night.

          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Khazad-dûm

A/N: The author does not seriously think that elves would have brothels; in fact it seems extremely unlikely. 


	14. Chapter 24

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past**   
by: DLR 2002  
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

A/N: _In ancient times, direct communication between a ruler and his people was often impossible.  The ruler used a special official, called a Herald, to deliver messages and orders and to announce important events.  Heralds were personal agents for the King, akin to modern ambassadors.  As the King's representative, the Herald enjoyed great honor and was considered one of the chieftains of the army.  Heralds were authorities on coats of arms and supervised the selection of new designs to prevent duplication._

-The World Book Encyclopedia.1970 Ed. 

_The Second Age of Middle-earth, Year 1200_

_Lindon_

**Chapter 24**

"Why am I not surprised," The high king asked with a smile, "to find you here as usual?"

Elrond looked up from his book and regarded his cousin for a moment.  "You think I am incapable of spontaneous behavior, I take it?"

"When it comes to matters that concern you, Tercáno,"* Gil-galad said, "all is very predictable."

"Meaning what, exactly?" asked Elrond, arching an eyebrow.

"Meaning I still know precisely where you will be."

"Considering the amount of time I spend traipsing up and down the countryside," Elrond said dryly, "that is an extremely unusual statement." 

Gil-galad smiled.  "You are adjusting to your new responsibilities, I see."

"At this moment, I am wishing for Gildor to return and I would treat him with more respect," sighed Elrond.

"You will be fine," the high king assured him.  "After all, tis your birthright, Gildor was merely filling in until you came of age."

Elrond smiled and returned his concentration to his book.

"What commands your attention?" 

"Do you need to enquire?" responded Elrond with a grimace, showing him the volume.

"Ah," said the king.  "Coats of Arms and Their Origins."

"Indeed," replied Elrond, "not one of your more lively subjects."

Gil-galad regarded his new herald with amusement.  "But necessary, nonetheless." 

"I hope you do not expect me to memorize this," Elrond complained.

"Indeed yes," said Gil-galad, jesting.  "There are two other volumes as well."

Elrond groaned and snapped the book closed.  He laid it on the table and rubbed his face.

"If you are weary of study . . ." began Gil-galad.  Elrond looked at him with a wary eye.  "You may undertake another task for me," the king continued.  

Elrond closed his eyes again and his forehead hit the table with a thud.

"Do I take that as a 'no'?" 

"Take it any way that you wish," came back Elrond's muffled voice. 

"Are you saying you are incapable of carrying out your duties?" persisted Gil-galad.

"I am saying I wish for one set of saddle sores to heal, before developing another," Elrond muttered into the table.

"If you are refusing, apprize me of it," said the king, his eyebrows raised.  "Speak not to me in riddles and half jests."

Elrond sat up quickly, his cheeks tinged with red.  "I will go.  What is your request?"

Gil-galad hid a smile beneath his apparent royal demeanor.  "There has been a message from the main gate, of an unusual visitor, seeking entrance.  I wish you to accompany the messenger back and appraise the stranger.  Make a decision on my behalf as to whether he should be admitted."

Elrond became almost cheerful.  "That does not sound difficult."

"Nay, and not much of a horse ride either," said the king with a twinkle in his eye.

"You could have conveyed this aspect immediately," said Elrond, his eyes narrowed. 

"What, and miss this extremely entertaining spectacle you have made, moaning and whining?" said Gil-galad with a wide grin.  "Not on your life, Tercáno, not on your life."

                             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elrond dismounted from his horse with a wince.  He made a move to rub his backside, and then thought better of it, remembering at the last moment to appear dignified.  He handed his reins to a guard and walked stiffly towards the main building, keeping the pain from his face with great effort.

"Master Elrond," Arminas greeted him with great relief.  

Elrond took the outstretched hand.  "You are troubled."

"Aye, indeed," said Arminas.  "I do not like the look of this stranger.  I have barred him entrance, yet he is most persistent, he wishes to see the high king."

"Worry no longer," said Elrond.  "I will take that responsibility from you."

Arminas did indeed look as though a heavy weight had been lifted.  "Be on your guard," he warned.  "I suspect he has the power to enchant mortals."

Elrond raised his eyebrows.  "Does he now," he said, becoming curious.  "Maia?" 

"Possibly," agreed Arminas.  "But up to no good, I will wager."

"Hmm," replied Elrond.  "I will be in this room," he indicated.  "Send him to me."

Arminas gave him a quick nod and hurried off.

                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  


"The Lord Annatar," Arminas announced.

Elrond slowly looked up from the parchment on the table before him.  Black eyes glittered into his grey ones. He rose.  "I am Elrond, son of Eärendil, Herald and emissary of Ereinion Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor."  He indicated a chair.  "Please be seated, my Lord."

Annatar did not do so immediately.  He reached out to clasp Elrond's hand with both of his.  "An honor, Lord Elrond, an honor," he said with a pleasant smile. "I have heard of you, lore-master."

"Have you indeed?" asked Elrond.

"Truly, Master, you are accounted high among the wise," purred Annatar.

Elrond smiled a little grimly at this obvious attempt at flattery.  "Sit, I beg of you."

Lord Annatar acquiesced with another pleasant smile.

"Now then," began Elrond, clearing his throat.  "Why do you attempt entrance to Lindon, my Lord?   Are you not aware it is a closed city?"

"I am," responded Annatar.  "This is why I await permission."

"Which is seldom given to any except Eldalië," returned Elrond, "so few others ask."

"It is not as though I am a dwarf," said the stranger, smiling.

"That is quite apparent," agreed Elrond, not smiling.  "Perhaps if you state your business . . . ?"

"I would have a council with the high king," Annatar said vaguely.

"Please apprize me of the nature of this council."

Annatar paused, assessing his interviewer.  "I can offer you much," he said with glittering eyes.  "I am known as the 'Lord of Gifts."

Elrond was unmoved.  "Detail your conception of 'gifts.'"

Annatar's eyes narrowed.  "Knowledge," he confided in a smooth voice.  "I have access to hitherto untapped fields of information, of both Middle-earth and Aman as well."

Elrond rose abruptly from the table and stared out a nearby window.  Annatar could see at once that he had struck a chord with him and he pressed his advantage.  He came up close behind the herald, so close that the length of his body nearly made contact.

"Think of it," he whispered, his breath hot in Elrond's ear.  "I offer you the secrets of Eä, insight into all eternity."

Elrond closed his eyes.  There was something foul to this offer; he could feel it in his bones.  His interest, which had been piqued for a moment, quickly turned to revulsion.

He struggled to fight off the sensuous spell of enchantment against which his Atani self had no defense.  He turned to look the stranger squarely in the eye.  "Be gone from here at once," he demanded.  "You are denied entrance."

The Lord Annatar was not giving up yet.  "You have no idea," he whispered seductively, "of the scope of that which you renounce so casually."  He held Elrond's gaze with his hypnotic eyes.  He felt the Peredhel waver once again and he could see the struggle between that which was Maia and that which was Edain in him.  Annatar smiled and licked his lips.

"Think on it, Lord Herald," he continued with his melodious voice.  Annatar stepped close to Elrond and his eyes glittered as he continued his assault, his face only inches away from the other's.

"Your people will amass great wealth," he whispered, "far exceeding the elven kingdoms of old."  He smiled, revealing his straight white teeth.  "Knowledge, wealth and power," Annatar breathed, leaning in even closer, if possible.

With a great effort, Elrond closed his eyes, breaking the stare.  He took a step backwards and a shudder passed through his body as his Maiar blood prevailed over the persistent Atani urge to succumb. 

 "Leave of your own free will now, or be forcibly removed," he whispered through clenched jaws, his eyes still shut.  He did not see the hatred on the other's face as he sneered and vacated the room, leaving Elrond alone.

The herald gripped the back of his chair and let out his breath in a long sigh.  He pulled himself together and left the room as well, noting Lord Annatar's progression back to the gate.

Elrond joined Arminas in watching the stranger retreat from the walls of the city.

"Well?" asked Arminas. 

"Your intuition was accurate," said Elrond.  "Draw weapons on him if he returns."

The heavy iron doors were closed with a loud clang.

Annatar, Lord of Gifts, turned his horse back towards the noise and paused for a moment.  Poison dripped from his eyes like the venom of a serpent and his pretty features were contorted into an expression of absolute evil.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Herald


	15. Chapter 25

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past ****  
by: DLR 2002 **

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~****

_The Second Age of Middle-earth, circa 1400__  
Lindon___

**Chapter 25 ******

Lindir shook his master into wakefulness. "What is it?" asked Gil-galad, groggily. 

"Messengers from Ost-in-Edhel," Lindir told him. "The Lord Celeborn as well." 

The high king sat up abruptly. "Wake Elrond and Glorfindel. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The eyes of half a dozen grim faced elves looked up as Gil-galad entered the room. Celeborn stepped forward, his disheveled and dirty appearance speaking volumes.

"What has happened?" Gil-galad asked quickly.

"The worst," said Celeborn, shaking his head. "Everything we have feared has come to pass."

Elrond entered the chamber with Glorfindel hard on his heels. "What is it?" he asked, looking at the assemblage. 

Celeborn turned to face him. "The Gwaith-i-Mírdain* have taken control of the city."

"Annatar," Elrond said darkly.

"Just so," agreed Celeborn. "They are firmly under his influence."

Gil-galad stared at him in disdain. "It was apparent to us he was not what he seemed," he muttered.

"We are not going to travel this road again, are we?" demanded Celeborn vehemently. "If not for the excessive materialism of the descendants of Finwë, this would not be an issue."

Gil-galad drew his eyebrows together. "Do not even start on that path with me," he began. 

The voices in the room became louder as the remaining elves moved to take sides. Glorfindel looked at Elrond and rolled his eyes. Elrond winked at him and took a deep breath. "Silence!" he bellowed.

Eight jaws dropped to the floor as the combatants stared at him in shock.

"That is much better," Elrond said smugly. "All of you sit, please."

There was total quiet as the elves looked side-long at each other and nervously shuffled into chairs.

"Elrond," began the high king, testily. "I hardly think . . ."

Elrond turned towards his cousin and raised his eyebrows meaningfully. Gil-galad closed his mouth once more and quickly sat.

"We are kindred and allies," said Elrond. "We are on the same side. You will please act like it." He pointed to Gil-galad and Celeborn. "You will be civil to each other," he commanded. There was a long pause as Elrond found a chair.

"I simply cannot believe this of Celebrimbor," Gil-galad muttered.

"One would think him mortal, he is so under the enchantment of that one," said Celeborn, under his breath. 

Elrond was addressing him.  "This knowledge, these gifts that he spoke of.  What precisely did they turn out to be?"

"Mining and metal craft, mostly," answered Celeborn. "The sculpting of gems as well." He paused. "There is more to it than that, though. It seems he is able to enchant the works themselves, transfer power into them. This is the knowledge that the smiths have gained."

"How is this different from the creation of the silmarils?" asked Glorfindel.

Elrond answered him. "The silmarils were not mined, they were fashioned by Fëanor. He was able to capture in them the light of the two trees of Valinor, which were created by Yavanna. They were bright with light and beauty, and all were in awe, but there was no special power to them, no enchantment." 

He turned to Celeborn. "What is this manner of enchantment of which you speak?" 

Celeborn's face darkened. "Of this I am not certain.  They have been forging many trinkets, rings mostly, I believe, although I have not been privy to their recent councils."

"Trinkets?" asked Gil-galad, incredulous. "We fear trinkets?"

"These trinkets," said Celeborn, "are invested with the power of Annatar. They have influence over certain aspects of Arda, flood, fire, wind. Influence over the weak minded as well."

"Who and what is this being Annatar, exactly?" asked Gil-galad.

"Well, Maia, certainly," said Elrond. "We suspected this."

Celeborn concurred. "Indeed, this was apparent to us as well and his pose as emissary of Valinor was quite convincing."

"But Maiar are not evil," put in Glorfindel. 

Elrond looked at him. "Balrogs are Maiar." 

"Ah, yes," said Glorfindel, turning pink. "This is true." He paused. "Annatar is obviously not a Balrog," he muttered under his breath.

"Nay," said Celeborn, smiling. "But there is a Maia who could be Annatar."

"Gorthaur," concluded Elrond.

Gil-galad sat up straight. "Sauron?" he asked, surprised. "Sauron would not dare show his face in Middle-earth."

"It has been a long age since the defeat of Morgoth," said Celeborn. "The eyes of the Valar have turned elsewhere, they no longer seek Sauron."

"If Annatar is indeed Sauron," began Gil-galad, worried.

"Then our problems are only just beginning," finished Celeborn.

                               ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Celeborn, help me!" she screamed.  He tried to fight through the throng of people, but she was pushed further away from him. He leapt forward, desperate to reach her.

"Galadriel!" he yelled. It seemed to him that he could hear his baby, his child, wailing through the din.  "Celebrían!" he cried in anguish as he struggled through the crowd of panicking elves.

There were fires everywhere, buildings engulfed in flames. The dragons rose in the air, adding to the inferno with their hot breath.

Celeborn sat up with a jerk, his eyes wide, panting and bathed in sweat.  _A dream_, he told himself, only a dream, as the pounding in his chest subsided. Galadriel and Celebrían were fine, no doubt messengers would arrive any day to tell him they were safe in Lórinand.*

_You are in Lindon, _he insisted. _You are not witnessing the fall of Thangorodrim once more, it is just a nightmare._

The theft of Ost-in-Edhil by the smiths of Eregion had not been violent, but a deep wound had been created in Celeborn and his dreams reflected it. It did not help matters that Celebrimbor was so obviously in love with his wife.

Celeborn closed his eyes and lay back on the pillows. _Galadriel is fine_, he assured himself, _Celebrían is fine,_ he was fairly certain, but still the laughing, sneering face of Annatar haunted his dreams.

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You will return to Ost-in-Edhil," Gil-galad was saying. "We need to know what is happening there."

The elves of Eregion nodded grimly. Gil-galad looked at Celeborn. "You will return as well?  Or do you seek your family?"

"I will return," said Celeborn. "My family is far removed from the situation now and I feel that my presence is needed there, for certain."

"What of Celebrimbor?" asked Gil-galad. "Will he deny you entrance?"

Celeborn smiled. "Ost-in-Edhil is not a walled city.  We will find a way in."

"How can we ascertain if Annatar is Sauron?" muttered Gil-galad.

"That revelation will not be forth-coming soon I fear," said Celeborn. "Whatever be his plans, Celebrimbor would certainly not fall in with them, should that be his true identity and be known to all."

"We bide our time," said the high king pensively, "and we watch them."

"Tis all we can do," agreed Celeborn with a sigh, "watch and wait."

                               ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_The Second Age of Middle-earth, circa 1600__  
Lindon___

"Speak to me," Gil-galad said.

Celebrimbor did not move. His arms were clasped tightly around his knees. Gil-galad touched him on the shoulder.

"Please," he repeated. "Speak to me."

Celebrimbor lifted his head for a brief moment before laying it back down. "Allow me some rest," he whispered. 

"Tomorrow we will talk."

Gil-galad gripped his friend's arm for a moment, and then he beckoned to Arminas. "Tell me exactly what occurred," he asked as they walked away.

"Certainly, Sire," said Arminas. "There was a commotion outside the gate. When we checked, the Lord Celebrimbor was there. We brought him in and here he sits. That is all," Arminas added. "He was just as you see him."

"On foot?" Gil-galad asked. 

"Nay, on horseback."

Gil-galad looked around. "He was alone?" 

"Yes, Sire," Arminas nodded. 

The high king grunted. "Assist me in taking him to a bedchamber, please."

Celebrimbor made no protest as Gil-galad and Arminas ushered him into a vacant chamber in the guardhouse. As they laid him on the bed, Gil-galad issued another directive. "Bring food in a few hours, please."

"I will see to it, Sire," Arminas said as he left the room.

Gil-galad sat down in a chair and put his feet up on the table. He folded his arms across his chest and watched his friend sleep. Celebrimbor looked terrible, thin and gaunt, with large dark circles under his eyes.

He was not sleeping comfortably, his breathing was rapid and shallow, his limbs were restless. He grimaced and moaned as he tossed on the bed.

"Galadriel," he whispered at one point, and also somewhat incoherently, words about Annatar. Gil-galad raised his eyebrows pondering the possible implications of these mutterings. 

The high king was deep in thought sometime later, when Arminas re-entered silently. He laid out nourishment on a small side table along with a skin of wine and came to stand next to Gil-galad's chair.  "What do you suppose has happened to him, Sire?" 

"I know nothing for certain," replied Gil-galad. "I suspect the Lord Annatar to be at the bottom, however."

"Ah, yes," said Arminas. "How well I remember that one. A troublemaker, he was."

The high king grinned at his gatekeeper's assessment of the one they suspected to be the most evil being in Middle-earth.

"It would appear he was allowed entrance into Ost-in-Edhil?" asked Arminas. 

"Yes, unfortunately," sighed Gil-galad.

Arminas pursed his lips. "A better gatekeeper they need there."

Gil-galad smiled once again and gave him a pat on the arm. "Not all exhibit the same high degree of capability as you." At that moment Celebrimbor opened his eyes. He sat up at once and took in his surroundings with no comprehension. "Save me!" he cried, and Gil-galad stood up. 

Celebrimbor looked wildly around the room with unseeing, fear-stricken eyes. Gil-galad grasped his forearms.  "You are in Lindon," he said firmly. "You are fine, calm yourself."

Celebrimbor struggled and Arminas added his strength.

"It was a nightmare," continued the king in a soothing voice. "You are safe, he is not here."

Celebrimbor relaxed slowly and sank back down to the bed. His breath was labored and he put his head into his hands.

"Leave us," Gil-galad said quietly to Arminas. After the door closed, he turned back to his friend. "Talk to me," he said gently.

Celebrimbor sighed and shuddered. "I have sold my soul to a demon," he whispered. Gil-galad paled and waited silently. "Annatar," Celebrimbor amended, "is Sauron."

"You deem this to be reality?" asked the high king.

Celebrimbor nodded. "He has revealed himself to me, and through my greediness, I have put into his hands the weapons that will cause our downfall." 

Gil-galad closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "What have you done?"

Celebrimbor turned away; he could not look at him. "Can you not guess?" he asked bitterly. "I listened to him, I let myself be persuaded by him, I let him control me, and through me, control the city. I let him dominate me," he whispered, "every aspect of me."

He paused and held his head again. "Through me, he can control all the races of Middle-earth."

"Please," asked Gil-galad. "Speak plainly to me."

Celebrimbor looked up. "Do you have any inkling what we have been doing the last two hundred years?"

"Some idea, yes," answered the king. "Something to do with magic rings, trinkets."

Celebrimbor sighed. "Trinkets at first, yes, but trinkets no longer. Now they are reservoirs of unspeakable power." He collected his thoughts. "There are groups of rings, each group designed for a specific race of Middle-earth, these Annatar and I made together. Seven in all for the Dwarves, nine rings for the Atani." He paused here and was silent.

Gil-galad waited quietly without comment.

"At that point Annatar left Eregion for purposes of his own," continued Celebrimbor. "While he was gone, I made the greatest, most powerful rings of all, three for the Eldar, the firstborn."

He closed his eyes and his voice conveyed the extreme emotions encompassing him. "This is when I knew. Knew him for what he was, finally. Knew that I was betrayed. That all the people of Middle-earth were betrayed.

"I placed a ring on my finger and I saw a vision. Annatar was revealed as Sauron. He has built a vast fortress in the east, in the land of Mordor. There he made his own ring, greater than all the others. A master ring," Celebrimbor whispered. "A ring that can control the rest and force their wearers into enslavement." 

"Where are these rings?" Gil-galad asked.

"In the House of the Mírdain," Celebrimbor replied, "are hidden the nine and the seven. The three, however, I have here." He put his hand in his pocket, and then opened his fingers to the scrutiny of Gil-galad. In his palm were two breathtaking rings, one set with a magnificent blue stone, the other with a great stone of red.

"The blue ring is called Vilya, the ring of Air, the most powerful of the three. This red one is Narya, the ring of Fire. I come here from Lórinand," Celebrimbor explained. "I have left the third ring, Nenya, the ring of Water in the keeping of Galadriel. These two, I leave with you.

"They are unsullied, having never been touched by the hand of Sauron; he has no control over them. Should you wear one, however, while the master ring is on his hand, your mind is revealed to him, you are exposed."

He looked into Gil-galad's eyes. "I need you to be guardian of these things; I cannot have them when he comes back." 

"He is coming back?" the high king asked with concern.

"Indeed yes," said Celebrimbor. "I saw it in the vision. He has shed his fair facade, he is amassing a great army, he will be back for these rings."

"Destroy the others," insisted Gil-galad.

Celebrimbor sighed and attempted to run his fingers through his tangled black hair. "I will," he said, but the weakness was apparent in his voice.

"Destroy these as well," said Gil-galad, with a move to hand the two rings back to their maker.

"Never," whispered Celebrimbor. "I simply cannot do it. Their destruction would be my own."

He lay back on the bed and folded his arms across his chest tightly. He smiled suddenly and laughed. "The joke is on me," he said with amazement. "I am the only one of my kindred to denounce the Oath of Fëanor and look at me, am I not the truest descendant of Fëanor who ever lived?"

He continued to laugh, his shoulders shaking, tears streaming down his face, until he was hysterical. 

Gil-galad watched him, silently and helplessly, the maniacal laughter ringing in his ears.

               ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*The Elvensmiths of Eregion

* The name given to Lothlórien in the second age. 


	16. Chapter 26

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**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past ****  
by: DLR 2002******

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_The Second Age of Middle-earth, 1695__  
Ost-in-Edhil, Eregion_

**Chapter 26**__****

All through the night, the southeastern sky glowed like a bright red sunset, locked at that place in time where Anar is fiercest, just before it dips below the horizon.

As dawn broke, the wind shifted to the northwest and the acrid smoke became a tangible presence in the air. 

Elrond reined in his horse on a high ridge and shielded his eyes from the smoke-laden wind. His cloak and his long black hair streamed out behind him as he made an effort to see into the far-away valley. 

Glorfindel gathered the strands of his own golden hair that persisted in whipping his face and tied them securely. 

Elrond sighed and turned his back to the wind. Removing one of his gloves, he used the back of his hand to wipe his watery eyes.

"The city is burning," said Glorfindel, unnecessarily. 

"Indeed," replied Elrond, in voice devoid of expression. "We are too late."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They could hear the cries of the children long before they could see them; the air was filled with their pitiful wailing as the mothers dragged them along. Disheveled and dirty, the refugees streamed out of the city, most with only the clothes on their backs and a loaf or two of bread. As they encountered the army, most fell in with it, accepting its protection.

Erestor was busy, galloping continuously from the front to the rear of the small force, organizing the civilians, providing them with food and blankets. The children were accommodated in the baggage carts and the army moved on, slowly and steadily towards the scene of destruction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Celeborn passed a hand over his grimy face and struggled to breathe. The air was foul with the stench of burning buildings, burning woodlands and burning corpses. 

He smiled bitterly at the memory of Celebrimbor, repentant at last, begging him to form an army to stand against the approaching forces of Sauron.

And make a stand they did, temporarily keeping the army of the enemy from entering the city.

He coughed and spat, his eyes stinging, his throat dry.

Temporarily, that was the key word. He had eventually been forced to stand to the side and watch as Ost-in-Edhil was overrun with the evil servants of the one called Annatar, Lord of Gifts.

Elrond stared grimly at the bodies being carried back from the front lines. Celeborn came up and stood next to him. "It is futile," he whispered. "There is nothing we can do, the city is lost."

"I would know what is happening in there," Elrond said with gritted teeth.

"As would I," said Celeborn, "but I can guess. All the Rings of Power are now in the hands of the Enemy."

"Nay, not all," Elrond reminded him.

"Yes," said Celeborn, "Thank Eru Ilúvatar for that."

Elrond turned back towards the city. "We must regroup and attempt another assault," he said, his eyes burning.

Celeborn put a hand on the younger elf's arm. "We do not have the strength," he said gently. "It would be suicide."

"We cannot sit here and do nothing," exclaimed Elrond with barely repressed anger.

"We do not," said Celeborn calmly. "We give refuge to the survivors, we treat the wounded and we look for, perhaps, a turn of the tide. Possibly reinforcements will arrive, we have sent messengers far afield."

He turned to face Elrond and looked into his eyes. "There is nothing we can do for those still trapped inside the city."

Elrond shook his head stubbornly. "Spies, perhaps," he muttered.

Celeborn raised his eyebrows. "Disguised as what, pray tell? Orcs?" He spoke lightly, but his eyes were deadly serious. "Certain suicide once again," he insisted.

Elrond turned his smoldering eyes back to the beleaguered city. "I cannot just sit here and wait," he said through clenched teeth.

"You can and you will, for you have no other option," stated Celeborn with finality. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elrond knotted the bandage and looked around the tent quickly. He caught Celeborn's eye and beckoned him over.

"Glirhuin," exclaimed Celeborn. 

"My Lord," the wounded elf said weakly.

"Repeat the tale to Lord Celeborn that you have just related to me," directed Elrond, giving him a drink of water.

"Yes, Hîrnested, certainly," said Glirhuin. "I was before the House of the Mírdain; I witnessed hand to hand combat between Lord Celebrimbor and Sauron, the evil one."

Celeborn exchanged looks with Elrond. "What was the outcome?" he asked, although certain of the answer.

Glirhuin sighed. "Lord Celebrimbor was made a prisoner and taken inside." 

"What else?" asked Celeborn.

"That is all I know." 

Elrond stood and led Celeborn away. "Tis as we feared."

"Indeed," said Celeborn, closing his eyes. "I would imagine he is being tortured."

"Yes," said Elrond quietly. He turned abruptly back to Celeborn. "Tell me something."

"Yes?" asked the silver-haired elf, raising his eyebrows.

"This person, Celebrimbor," Elrond said, "his name seems familiar to me, but I do not think I have met him."

"That strikes me as strange," said Celeborn, "for he and Gil-galad are friendly. Celebrimbor spent many years in Mithlond helping Círdan build the city and I can remember him visiting Lindon from time to time." 

He paused and looked at Elrond. "Perhaps his name is familiar because he is the grandson of Fëanor."

"Nay," said Elrond, "it is most assuredly not anything to do with the silmarils." He knitted his brow. "Something else, something just outside my memory."

Celeborn looked concerned. "Is this a common occurrence for you?  To suffer from memory lapses?"

"Indeed yes," said Elrond. "Not of recent events," he hurriedly amended, "but there seems to be a period in my life that is exceptionally hazy, mostly in my early years."

"Well, there was much trauma in your childhood, with the destruction of Sirion, your abduction, and the loss of your parents," said Celeborn. "It is understandable you should wish to forget it."

"Strange how I seem to remember that period more clearly than later years," mused Elrond, wondering suddenly if the familiar looking elf he saw walking with Gil-galad in the gardens of Lindon years ago could have been Celebrimbor.

"I would not dwell too much on it," said Celeborn. "Tis most likely nothing. How bad could it be, after all?" he added teasingly.

_How bad indeed,_ worried Elrond, remembering Lindórië. _How bad could it possibly be?_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ground beneath their feet shook like the tremor of an earthquake.

"What in Mandos is happening now?" exclaimed Glorfindel.

Erestor sighed as the game pieces slid off the vibrating board. _The one and only time I was actually winning._ Even the forces of nature were plotting against him. He looked up to see Elrond appear suddenly, as if from nowhere.

"Call to arms," Elrond directed. "Immediately." 

Erestor stood up abruptly, his chair falling to the floor. "At once, Lord," he said, rushing off.

The peals of the trumpets served to organize the confused elves. "To arms, to arms," the resounding notes instructed.

The elven commanders stood in a group while the lines of soldiers formed up behind them.

"Not an earth tremor," Celeborn was saying. 

"Nay," agreed Elrond. "More like the stomping of thousands of steel-shod feet."

"So they are coming," said Glorfindel quietly.

"Yes," said Elrond, looking into the distance, "they are coming."

"What is our plan?" asked Glorfindel.

"That depends greatly on the force of the attack," answered Elrond. "We have two simple options, we fight or we retreat."

"We retreat," said Celeborn.

Elrond arched an eyebrow at him. "We shall see."

"We are six thousand," said Celeborn. "They are over twenty thousand."

"We will not panic unnecessarily," said Elrond.

"An organized retreat is prudent, not panic-stricken," persisted Celeborn. "Better that than annihilation." 

Elrond was silent, his attention commanded by a scout who rode hurriedly up to them.

"The enemy is coming straight for us, Lord," he announced. "Tens of thousands of them, and they appear to be quite incensed." Elrond dismissed him with a nod. 

"Well?" asked Celeborn.

"We retreat," said Elrond.

Celeborn let out his breath in a long sigh of relief. 

Elrond held up his hand.  "We retreat half a league to the first ridge of hills. We make a stand there." 

Celeborn nodded his assent. "A clever tactic, neth maether.  I wish I had thought of it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The elven archers lined the ridge, raining a deadly hail of arrows onto the multitude of orcs in the valley. The orcs surged up the slope, only to be driven back time and time again as the archers kept up their unceasing onslaught.

"What in all of Arda is that?" Glorfindel asked suddenly, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"What?" Elrond responded, looking up.

Glorfindel pointed. "That," he repeated. Elrond followed his gaze.

A great band of orcs had come into the fray before them. They sported a banner, a trophy, waving it around triumphantly.

Glorfindel got a clear view of it and abruptly turned his head and vomited. 

Elrond stared in horror, unable to take his eyes off the revolting display.

Celeborn paled and dropped to his knees, his face in his hands.

It was Celebrimbor.

To be more exact, what was left of Celebrimbor.

He hung by his neck from a great pole, riddled with arrows, eviscerated, his entrails laid open, dismembered, hideously mutilated.

Elrond stood frozen for a moment, focused on the still recognizable face of the dead elf, then all hell broke loose inside him and he staggered suddenly beneath the weight of the images that came flooding into his mind.

A multitude of voices hammered into his head, a great cacophony of tortuous sound.

He sank to his knees and clapped his hands over his ears, moaning.

Situations, episodes, events, it all came rushing like a tidal wave into him, triggered by the ghastly visage of what was once Gil-galad's friend.

"No, Herdir, please, no!" Elrond cried. 

Conversations he was never meant to hear, but hear them he did, as he lingered outside doorways. Loud voices, echoing, resonating through his body. 

_He is not anywhere near the age of consent_

_You could be doing permanent damage to him_

_Do you think he would have forced that girl, if you had not forced him first?_

_Is your pleasure really worth the cost of his soul? _

Elrond clutched the sides of his head tightly and rocked back and forth. "No, Herdir, no, no, no."

Glorfindel pulled himself together. He grasped the situation immediately. "Mandos," he whispered in shock, looking at Elrond on the ground, and then turning his eyes to the orcs charging up the hill.

_Not here, not now he pleaded silently as Elrond continued to fall apart, oblivious to the chaos approaching, locked into the onslaught of his returning memories._

"Celeborn!" Glorfindel shouted, pulling the other elf to his feet. "Help me, quickly!" he said, indicating Elrond. They each put a hand under his shoulder and dragged him behind the line of archers.

"Why does he carry on so?" asked Celeborn as Elrond collapsed to his knees once more. Glorfindel ignored him and gave his full attention to his friend.

"Elrond!" he yelled, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him.

"No, Herdir!" cried Elrond again.

Glorfindel gritted his teeth and slapped him across the face. "You must wake up!" 

Elrond stared at him with a dazed expression. "Herdir," he whispered, "do not hurt me anymore."

His friend rolled his eyes. "I am Glorfindel and we are in Eregion, in the middle of a battle," he said with intensity.

"We must retreat!" shouted Celeborn urgently. "Soon we shall be overwhelmed!"

Glorfindel stood, assessing the situation. "Stay a moment.  What emerges from the forest to the east?"

Celeborn turned and looked, straining his eyes in the dim light. "Dwarves," he said finally, relief evident in his voice. "An army from Hadhodrond."

"Well, that is wonderful news, yet it does not help our present situation," said Glorfindel, eyeing the ever dwindling gap between the elves and the advancing orcs.

Celeborn looked with concern at Elrond who was sitting with his arms wrapped around his knees, his head thrown back and his eyes closed, as he rocked back and forth.

"I will give the orders for the main body of the army to fall back to the east," Celeborn said. "You will cover the retreat and please try to shake some sense into him."

Glorfindel sighed and squatted in front of Elrond once more. He took his friend's head between his hands and looked into his pain stricken eyes. 

"Come back to the present," he insisted forcefully. "Your people need you here, now, in Eregion."

"Glorfindel," Elrond whispered, his eyes comprehending at last.

"Yes," said Glorfindel relieved. 

"Celebrimbor," Elrond said with anguish.

"Yes, I saw him," responded Glorfindel.

"I remember . . ."

"I know and I am sorry," said Glorfindel, "but you need to pull yourself together now, at once. You are in command, we need you."

Elrond raised his head and looked around the hill top. The elves could not hold the orcs off for much longer. He wiped his face as he stood and shook himself, taking several deep breaths.

"Another row of archers here," he indicated, "on the reverse slope. They will lie down. When I give the word, they will spring up and let loose their arrows." He paused and waited for the elves to get into position.

Elrond elevated his voice to a shout, addressing the front line. "At my signal, you will reverse direction and run," he instructed. "Do not step on your fellow soldiers behind you."

The orc arrows were becoming quite frequent, whistling through the air around them.

"Front line!" Elrond shouted. "Run!

The outer line of archers turned abruptly and sprinted over the crest of the hill, jumping over their compatriots lying down on the opposite slope. The orcs cackled with glee and throwing down their bows, gave pursuit.

"Second line!" bellowed Elrond. "Stand up!"

The orcs stopped dead in their tracks as the elves appeared out of nowhere. They were entirely unprepared for the fierce rain of arrows that assaulted their ranks. Panicking, they turned and fled back down the hillside.

"Second line!" shouted Elrond. "Continue until they are out of range, then turn and retreat!" He paused. "Everyone else, run now, we will fall back to the dwarves' position!"

Glorfindel gave him a quick embrace. "That was magnificent," he said with reverence. "Quickly now, to horse!"

They mounted and galloped rapidly to the east, following the shadows of the rising sun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Elrond thanks the Duke of Wellington for a lesson in military strategy/sneakiness. 


	17. Chapter 27

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**Dark   Memories: Shadows of the Past**  
by DLR 2002

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

  
**Chapter 27**

"Speak to me, please," whispered Glorfindel.  Elrond did not look at him.

"You should talk," said Glorfindel.  "It would help."

Elrond closed his eyes.  "I am fine.  Just leave me be."

"How in Eä could you be fine?" asked Glorfindel, worried.

Elrond turned and faced him, his eyes burning.  "What difference would it make to you?" he asked icily.  "You who have deceived me all these years."

Glorfindel's eyes widened with pain.  "Tried to protect you, I did, all this time, I would not deceive you."

Elrond's lips curled in a sneer.  "Protect yourself, you mean, for you are guilty as well."

Glorfindel stammered, disbelieving.  "I . . . I . . . was coerced, you know this, our conversation in the Hall of Healing, you do not remember that part?"

"I remember well enough your confession," said Elrond, darkly.

"And you forgave me," said Glorfindel with anguish.

"A mistake on my part, perhaps," said Elrond, his teeth clenched.

"Elrond," whispered Glorfindel desperately.

"You are correct," said Elrond with distaste.  "I am not fine; I will never be fine again.  You make me ill, both of you."  He closed his eyes and laid his head in his hands.  "Be gone from here, you disgust me."

Glorfindel winced and a shudder passed through his body.  He took a slow step backwards and turned, ever more slowly.  Each stride he took as he walked away was more painful than the one that preceded it.

                                   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Celeborn looked at him with concern.  "You have not slept."

"I need it not," responded Elrond.

"Not from the look of you."

Elrond's eyes flashed.  "I am fine, leave me be," he said warningly.

Glorfindel looked up at him suddenly, but maintained his silence.

"Where do we stand?" asked Elrond, changing the subject.

"The Enemy is trying to divide us," said Celeborn, "and they are succeeding.  When battle resumes tonight, we will no doubt be separated from the forces of Hadhodrond and Lórinand." He paused and considered.  "Perhaps Glorfindel could take a detachment and maintain a line of connection."

"Nay," said Elrond coldly.  "I think not."

Glorfindel opened his mouth and closed it again.  He then looked at the ground, his cheeks burning, his eyes dull with pain.

Celeborn looked from one of them to the other.  He took Elrond by the arm and led him to the side.  "Let us take a walk."

There was silence as they moved away from the cooking fires.

"It is perhaps not my business to know what has estranged you from your closest friend," began Celeborn.

"He is no friend of mine," interrupted Elrond quickly.

Celeborn raised an eyebrow.  "You are mistaken on that count.  I have watched the two of you grow older together.  The friendship between you has great depth and strong bonds.  It should not be sundered lightly, on a whim."

"This is no whim," muttered Elrond.  "The depth of that friendship is what makes the betrayal all the more painful."

"I know naught of your business," repeated Celeborn, "but this is a fence you should soon mend, for your own sake, and also for the sake of Lindon, for every day that passes will make it harder."  He smiled.  "You two will be civil to each other."

Elrond did not return the smile.  "Lindon will not suffer."

"But what of her favorite son?" Celeborn murmured with a hand on Elrond's arm.

"I am fine," said Elrond without much conviction, wiping a hand over his face.  "Have no concern for me."

"Think on this conversation," requested the older elf.  "That which you stand to lose is considerable."

"It is lost already," replied Elrond.

"I disagree," said Celeborn.  "The very measure of the pain I see in both of you is a measure of the strength of your friendship as well."

He walked away, leaving Elrond sitting, gazing into a campfire, the bright flames reflecting on his face as the cold blackness of night continued to grow and surround him.

                                 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Glorfindel thought it would not be much longer until his arm fell off.  He wiped his face with his sleeve, but that did nothing to stop the constant flow of sweat streaming into his eyes.  With a fierce stroke, he cleanly sliced off the head of yet another orc, then lowered his blade and rubbed his aching shoulder.

He squinted in the torchlight, seeing fewer and fewer elves, more and more orcs.  He heard a voice call out in the darkness, "Aphad-im Edhil!"* and he looked up to meet Elrond's eyes.

The herald of the high king looked away quickly, as did Glorfindel himself.  Precious few elves heeded Elrond's call and their number was merely four as they fought against the ever increasing tide of orcs.

"We are cut off!" shouted Glorfindel, speaking to no one in particular.

"We must flee!"  yelled Elrond, addressing his comment to anyone listening.  "On my command!  Now!"

The four elves sprinted rapidly away from the slow, ungainly orcs.  They made for a grove of nearby trees as the orc arrows whizzed by them.  Glorfindel saw one of the elves fall, an arrow through his neck.

"We must get out of range quickly!" he called as he felt a burning pain sear through his shoulder and he stumbled.  One, two more steps and the ground came up to meet his face.

Elrond looked to the side just in time to see Glorfindel go down.  "Mandos!" he swore and called to the other running elf.  "Come and help me, we must carry him!"

"Nay," protested Glorfindel, "leave me and go."

Elrond grunted.  "Do not be foolish," he said as he picked up the golden haired elf.

Glorfindel winced in pain.  "Tis you who are foolish," he whispered, "for now you condemn yourself to death as well."

"Let that be my choice," said Elrond, breathing heavily from the effort of running while carrying his friend.

"I cannot take much more of this," complained the other elf after a few minutes.

"Fine," panted Elrond, the sweat dripping down his face.  "We find a place of concealment off to the side, and then you may stay or go as you wish."

The perfect opportunity rose up a way to the left in the form of a group of boulders and they rushed to take cover.

"I will not stay and be trapped like a rat," the elf said.

"Be off with you, then," remarked Elrond.  "I thank you for your assistance."  He began to gather brush as the other elf hurried off.

Elrond arranged the branches over Glorfindel, whom he had pushed up against the rock, then slipped into the space beside him, pulling the brush over himself.

"Why are you doing this?" whispered Glorfindel.  "Go now, while you are still able."

"Hush," said Elrond, trying to control his labored breathing.  "It is too late, they are upon us."

He closed his eyes and prayed fervently that the orcs would neither see nor smell the trail of blood left by Glorfindel.

The two elves lay still as stones as the orcs passed by them on all sides.  It was some time before Elrond let out his breath in an audible sigh.  He moved the brush to one side and observed the dawn approaching.  He nudged his companion.  "I need to gather herbs, I will return soon."  Glorfindel nodded weakly.

Elrond filled his water skin at a nearby stream and searched the undergrowth for the plants he desired.  His eyes were focused so intently on the ground that he nearly crashed into something hanging from a tree.  He took a step back, startled and looked up.

It was a corpse, horridly mutilated and disemboweled.  He recognized the face of the elf that had helped him to carry Glorfindel.

Elrond staggered backwards and turned away, retching into the bushes.  Battlefield casualties were one thing, but this type of display was especially unnerving, only a matter of inches away from one's face.

Elrond thought of Celebrimbor and the agony threatened to overwhelm him once again.

"No," he whispered, shaking his head.  "Have strength."  He hurried back to where Glorfindel was hidden and found the elf nearly unconscious.

Elrond examined the wound while Glorfindel looked at him with glassy eyes.

He snorted with disgust. "The arrow has pierced your shoulder completely.  I am aware of your distaste for armor, but why were you not even wearing a mail shirt?"

Glorfindel turned his head to the side and did not answer.

"Well?" persisted Elrond angrily.  "Do you have a death wish?"

Glorfindel looked at him briefly, and then turned away again.  "I would rather die a thousand deaths," he said quietly, "than to live through all eternity being the object of your hatred."

Elrond sat speechless for a long moment.  "I do not hate you," he said finally, looking extremely uncomfortable.  "In fact, I love you," he mumbled.

Glorfindel's eyes widened in shock and his jaw dropped.  "You what?" he exclaimed, struggling to sit up.

Elrond frowned.  "Not in that way," he said quickly.  "Calm yourself and lie back.  I said that I loved you, not that I was in love with you, there is a difference."  His scowl deepened.  "That does not change the fact however, that I am not finished being angry with you."

Glorfindel looked confused.  "You are directing that anger at the wrong elf, you know," he muttered.

"I am aware of that," snapped Elrond, "but you have the misfortune to be here, while he is not."

"So I simply sit and wait until you are finished being angry?" 

"Provided you live that long," commented Elrond.  "You have an arrow through your shoulder, you know."

"Ah, yes," said Glorfindel, worry returning.  "Do you suppose it is poisoned?"

"Nay," said Elrond.  "You would be very ill by now."  He resumed his examination.  "I will need to break off the feathered end and push this clean through."

Glorfindel paled.  "Do it then."  

"You may wish to bite down on something," Elrond recommended.  "This strap will do."

Elrond removed his outer clothing and took off his shirt.

"What are you doing?" asked Glorfindel.  "Stopping to bathe?"

"Bandages," explained Elrond, shredding his shirt.  "You will bleed profusely once the arrow is removed."  He paused.  "Moreover, I am quite warm, it is becoming hot."

Glorfindel managed a small smile.  "Perhaps you would care to freshen up first after all, I can wait."

"Nay, I am comfortable now," said Elrond with a twinkle in his eye.  "This will be painful, just my touching it," he warned.

Glorfindel grimaced and bit down on the strap as Elrond broke off the feathered end.

"Brace yourself," he said as he pushed the arrow the rest of the way through.

Glorfindel gave a strangled cry and promptly fainted.  Elrond took the leaves he had gathered and crushed them into his water skin.  He bathed the wound with the liquid and proceeded to bind it with fabric.

Glorfindel stirred.  "Am I in Mandos?" he whispered weakly.

"Not as of yet," replied Elrond.  "But if you do not lie still and let me wrap this, you may get there sooner than you wish."

Glorfindel lay back against the ground, a smile on his lips.

"What is amusing?" asked Elrond, looking up briefly.

"You love me," Glorfindel said with a small snicker.  

Elrond raised an eyebrow at him.  "You had best keep silence about that unless you wish I should assist you in your journey to Mandos.  I will deny it, in any event."

"Fear not," said Glorfindel, "for I love you as well."  Elrond rolled his eyes skyward.  "Nay, do not worry," said Glorfindel smiling.  "Not in that way, not anymore.  Too much has happened to ever make that a possibility again."

"Thank Eru," Elrond muttered.  Glorfindel continued to smile to himself.

Elrond finished dressing the wound and sat back against a tree.  His face betrayed his utter exhaustion.

"How long has it been since you slept?" asked Glorfindel quietly.

Elrond's eyes flickered open.  "Not since before . . . Celebrimbor . . . before that," he said.  "I do not know how many days, I lose track of time."

"Hmm, six days, by my reckoning," said Glorfindel.  "Too long, even for an elf."

"Indeed," said Elrond, his eyelids drooping again.

"Perhaps it will be easier to sleep," said Glorfindel, "now that you have professed your love for me."

Elrond opened one eye and glared at the other elf.  "It appears that the arrow wound was more serious than I thought.  It pains me to have to report back the news of your untimely death."

Glorfindel snickered softly.  "Close your eyes, sleep deeply."  He let his own mind rest open-eyed in the singular paths of elvish dreams. The shadows grew long before he disturbed his friend who lay curled up on the ground next to him.

"Elrond," he poked his companion.  "Wake please."

"Drat," said Elrond groggily as his eyes focused.  "I have slept the day away."  He struggled to his feet, pulling on his tunic.  "It is essential we find the army quickly," he added, picking up his armor and weapons.  He turned to Glorfindel.  "You must walk."

"What, you will not carry me?" Glorfindel jested.  Elrond looked at him in silence.

"Fine," Glorfindel muttered.

"Take this strap and use it as a sling," instructed Elrond.  "Do not move your arm or you will bleed, I had not the equipment to stitch the wound."

They began to retrace their steps back to the battlefield.

"Perchance there will be no army left to rejoin?" mused Glorfindel.

"That is a consideration," replied Elrond.  "Though if I know Celeborn, he will have retreated with all haste, so I suggest we look northward of our previous position."

"I do not suppose you would consider becoming horse thieves," asked Glorfindel, hopefully.

Elrond smiled.  "If a horse decided to join us on this journey, I would not turn it away, but nay, we will not seek any out."

There was a pause.  "I am wondering," began Glorfindel tentatively, "what you are thinking about Gil-galad."

Elrond flinched at the mention of the name.  "At this moment, I think nothing; fortunately I have been able to push it to the side."  He closed his eyes.  "Pray do not speak of him again; I need to focus on the issues at hand."

"I understand," said Glorfindel and walked silently.

Elrond glanced at him after a few minutes and a small smile appeared on his lips. 

"What is it?" asked Glorfindel in surprise, noting the amused look.

"Tis a good thing you have no mirror, you would not want to see yourself right now."

Glorfindel paled.  "I look bad?" 

"Indeed," said Elrond with a smirk.  "Frightful."

"Alas, so much for my reputation," lamented Glorfindel.  "However, it pleases me to afford you some entertainment."

"Thank you," said Elrond.  "A generous gesture, I am sure."

"Indeed it is," said Glorfindel, "and I fail to see how you could still be angry with me, under the circumstances."

Elrond raised his eyebrows.  "I challenge you," he said, his eyes dancing.  "If you will maintain this dirty and disheveled appearance for the next two days, then I will forget my anger, the debt will be even."

"Ah, the great sacrifices I make for friendship," moaned Glorfindel, rolling his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~                                                         

 * Follow me, Elves!


	18. Chapter 28

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past  
by: DLR 2002**

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

_The Second Age of Middle-earth, 1697_

_Southeast of the Ford of the River Bruinen_

**Chapter 28**

Elrond's eyes flew open and he attempted to bring the movement of his heaving chest under control.  _Another nightmare_, he concluded.  _Calm yourself, you are fine_.  

He pulled the blankets up tightly around his shoulders.  Although the days remained warm, the nights grew chillier as the army retreated northwards, but he knew that the shivers wracking his body had little to do with the cold.

Elrond closed his eyes once more and thought about the dream, missing the days when he remembered nothing, for now he could recall every painful detail, making him wonder why he had tried so desperately to remember everything over the years.  He sighed as he fought back tears and attempted to stem the by now familiar quick slide into despair.  He quickly brought up his most powerful defense: Anger. 

_Stop it; you are acting like an elfling__.  That was all so long ago; it makes no difference to life today.  He tossed and turned for a while until he finally conceded wakefulness the winner in the battle against sleep._

The stars were shining brightly as he pulled the tent flap to one side.  Elrond quickly located Vingilot and stood still, silently gazing at the constellation.  There was a noise behind him and he turned to see Celeborn emerge from the bushes, apparently heeding the call of nature.  

"Another sleepless night?" asked Celeborn.

"Nay, not entirely," Elrond responded.  "I merely enjoy looking at the stars."

"Yes," said Celeborn with a smile.  "I can see why you would."

Elrond was silent for a few moments.  "We cannot keep retreating forever.  It is too hard on the civilians."

Celeborn nodded.  The refugees from Ost-in-Edhil and the surrounding area of Eregion marching with them were considerable.  "The army of Sauron pursuing us is enormous.  I fail to see how we could circle back and return to Lindon."

Elrond looked up sharply, and then turned away as his lips tightened.  "Returning to Lindon is not an option."  

He became grim.  "I will never return to Lindon," he added in a whisper.

Celeborn was deep in thought and appeared not to have heard the last remark.  "I am at a loss then."

Elrond turned his eyes to the east.  "It is in my mind that we find a promising location for a refuge of sorts, a stronghold." 

 He paused.  "I propose sending scouts into the mountains ahead, looking for a suitable enclosed valley."

"An excellent idea," said Celeborn.  "We certainly have enough builders, miners and stonemasons in our ranks to construct a city in the mountains."

Elrond regarded him with amusement.  "Do you never tire of building cities?" 

"Nay, never," said Celeborn, winking at him.  "It appears to be my lot in life."

               ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elrond reined in his horse and surveyed the valley before him.  "Give me your thoughts," he murmured.

Glorfindel was awestruck. "It is absolutely idyllic."  

"Regard the waterfalls," said Erestor in amazement.

Elrond smiled.  "I take it you approve?"

"Indeed," said Glorfindel.  "What is not to like?"

"Nothing, apparently," said Erestor.

Elrond's smile broadened.  "Well then, welcome home, gentlemen."

           ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The mountains themselves," Elrond was saying, "appear to provide ample security, but we will post pickets, nonetheless."  He referred to a roughly drawn map.  "Here is the main access; we will need to build a gate of sorts."

Celeborn grunted his approval.  "I shall see to it."

Elrond was troubled.   "Throw something together quickly, we have no time."

Celeborn acknowledged his worried look with one of reassurance.  "Consider it done."  He gripped the younger elf's shoulder before he strode from the room.

             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elrond looked grim as he viewed the enemy from the top of the wall. "We are indeed surrounded." 

"Will they make an effort to gain entrance?" asked Glorfindel.  "Or will they be content to simply have us besieged?"

"In their position I would try," said Elrond.  "They certainly have the strength to force any number of breaches should they be able to find weak spots.  I doubt, though, they will find any; Celeborn has done an excellent job with these additional fortifications." 

Glorfindel agreed with him whole-heartedly.  "We should be able to hold them off for a long while."

"Yes," said Elrond, smiling.  "That is indeed the plan."

              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elrond closed his eyes and willed the screaming voices in his head into silence, beating back the mental images that assaulted him.  

Glorfindel paused and looked at him with concern.  "What is it?" 

Elrond sighed.  "The usual."

"Would that I could bear some of that pain for you," Glorfindel whispered.

"You do," said Elrond.  "Just by being here." 

Glorfindel smiled sadly as he looked around.  There were elves everywhere, busy at work.  He glanced at the drawings on the table that they had been talking about, just minutes ago, prior to Elrond's vision.  "Do you really plan on staying here forever?" 

"Yes," said Elrond quietly.  "Those who wish to return to Lindon may go, whenever Sauron will let them, but that is not an option for me."  He looked up.  "Do you wish to leave?"

"Nay, of course not," Glorfindel said, with a hand on Elrond's shoulder.  "Have you thought of a name for this place?" he asked suddenly.

"Nay, not really," replied Elrond, unconcerned.  "Just call it what it is."

Glorfindel pondered a moment, and then shrugged.  "An imladris?"* 

"Exactly," responded Elrond.

         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Imladris, 1701_

Elrond stroked the soft cheek with his finger and the tiny hand clasped it gratefully and pulled it inside its owner's eager mouth.  A worried look appeared on Elrond's face as the infant enthusiastically suckled his finger.  "Perchance he is hungry?" 

Gildor looked up and smiled.  "He is always hungry." 

The elfling seemed perfectly content with the finger and Elrond relaxed, happily enjoying the contact with such a precious thing, a new life.  "I thank Elbereth you were able to come into here unharmed."

"The entire journey amazes me," said Gildor.  "To be forced to leave Eriador, at the worst possible time, with Norlindel only days away from her delivery.  Our small group journeyed blindly, knowing you were at hand, but unable to find this place."  He sighed.  "The story may have had a different ending, had we not come upon the emissaries of the High King."

Elrond stiffened and his lips tightened.  He adjusted the position of the tiny babe in his arms who had relinquished his finger, only to substitute one of Elrond's long braids.  This proved unsatisfactory, however and the infant began to cry as he pulled the peredhel's hair with surprising force. 

Elrond's expression changed rapidly to one of pain.  Gildor chuckled as he untangled his newborn son from the Lord of Imladris.  

"I believe you are correct."  He smiled.  "He is indeed hungry."

"My best regards to your Lady," said Elrond as Gildor took his leave.

Glorfindel looked up from a book he had been reading on a sofa in a corner of the library.  He saw Elrond standing frozen, staring after Gildor, a strange expression on his face.

"What is it, Mellon-istui?"* he asked quietly.  Elrond jumped, startled.  He shook his head.  "Nothing, really.  I merely envy Gildor."

Glorfindel raised his eyebrows.  "I wish to marry and beget children," Elrond explained.

"Then do so," said Glorfindel with a smile.

Elrond sighed.  "I wish to be in love first."

"That is more difficult," agreed Glorfindel.  "There is most decidedly a scarcity of acceptable females in Imladris at this time."  He paused.  "What will you do about the other matter?"

Elrond closed his eyes.  "Obey orders," he said in a flat voice.

Glorfindel nodded slowly.  It would hardly do to disobey a direct order from the high king, no matter what one's personal feelings were.  He recalled the expression on Elrond's face at the morning council a few days back, when the emissaries apprized Elrond of the king's directive. 

The army of Gil-galad, reinforced by the men of Númenor, was pushing the forces of Sauron to the northeast.  The enemy besieging Imladris drained steadily southwards, coming to the aid of its master.  Elrond should have no problem coming out of Imladris to push the remaining orcs towards the superior army of Gil-galad, trapping the enemy between the two forces.

"Have you given the order yet?" asked Glorfindel.  "To prepare for battle?"

"Nay," said Elrond, rubbing his eyes.  "See to it for me, would you?"

Glorfindel nodded.  "Certainly.  Consider it done."  He rose and left the room.

Elrond sat at a table for a long while, staring at his hands clasped before him.  A torrent of thoughts rushed through his head and he made his customary attempt to banish the images and maintain sanity, only this time they were relentless, pounding fiercely through his consciousness. 

Ereinion Gil-galad, his friend, his cousin, his king.  His betrayer. 

Elrond passed his hands over his face as the dark memories took hold of him.  _No, do not allow this to happen, he thought as the misery threatened to overwhelm him.  _

_Sink into despair and you are lost__.  Concentrate on anger, in anger there is strength._

Strength he needed, desperately.  Strength to come out of his refuge and confront his adversary, strength to put the past behind and go on with life.

_And go on, I will,_ he thought, his teeth clenched.  _I will win this battle,_ he prayed fervently.  _I will emerge the victor._

He slammed his fist down on the table suddenly and put his head down on his arms.

Nobody could hear him as he wept quietly while the candles burned low.

                  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Tharbad__, Eriador_

The orcs were dead, every last one of them. 

Between the massacre at Sarn Ford, the battle of Gwathló and this final conflict at Tharbad, the army of Sauron had been utterly destroyed.  

Unfortunately Sauron himself escaped capture, fleeing with only his bodyguard; presumably back to his stronghold in Mordor.  

Elrond watched with vacant expressionless eyes as the orc bodies were thrown into the bonfire.  His face betrayed none of the tumult that was invading his mind.

_A scant battlefield away, he was there, somewhere . . ._

He turned from the burning carcasses to see Glorfindel and Erestor looking at him with concern. "What is it?" 

"Nothing," said Glorfindel, obviously lying.

"Nothing at all," echoed Erestor, sounding like bird of the myna variety.

Elrond scowled.  "Many duties abound, if you are in need of occupation, unless there is some reason I have earned your stares?  Have I grown an extra head?"

Glorfindel and Erestor glanced at each other quickly.  This exchange did not escape Elrond.

"Mellon-iaur,"* he said, taking Glorfindel's arm.  "Walk with me please."

Glorfindel looked slightly apprehensive as Elrond led him away.  They walked in silence for a few minutes.  Elrond addressed Glorfindel without looking at him.  "What does Erestor know of my past with Gil-galad?" 

"Nearly everything," said Glorfindel.  Elrond turned to face him, searching his face for signs of dissembling.  

"Many who lived in the palace at that time were aware of the intimacy between you and the High King."  Glorfindel explained.  "Naturally few knew all the details, they were kept more private.  After Eregion, Erestor came to me with questions."  Glorfindel paused and looked into Elrond's eyes.   "I deemed him to be close enough to you to know the whole truth.  I pray I have not displeased you."

Elrond stared at his friend, his eyes dark with pain.  After a moment he sighed.  "Nay, I would have done the same."

Glorfindel looked across the battlefield.  "The time grows near, does it not?" he asked quietly.

"Indeed," said Elrond, following his gaze.  "The hour of retribution is nigh at hand."

"I worry for you," whispered Glorfindel.

Elrond turned icy grey eyes back to regard his friend.  

"Worry not for me," he said evenly.  "Worry for him."

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

* Literally: Deep dale of the cleft, or: A deep valley between high mountain walls.

* Learned Friend

*Old Friend


	19. Chapter 29

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past          **

by: DLR   2002****

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

**Chapter 29**

_His anger felt like a tangible presence, something he could reach out to and touch._

_He remembered the carvings on the wall, exploring them, channeling his anger through his finger tips, into the solid object._

_A wall, yes.__  An impregnable barrier, enveloping him on all sides, protection, also strength._

"Elrond."  

He opened his eyes, unaware they were tightly closed.  Glorfindel stood beside him, the usual look of concern on his face.

"I am fine," whispered Elrond automatically, not hearing his own words at all.

Glorfindel's keen elvish eyesight could make out the riders approaching, almost a league away.  He exchanged looks with Erestor, and then regarded Elrond once again.  His friend's face was an expressionless mask, giving away nothing.

The army stood to attention, commanders and soldiers alike, awaiting the approach of the royal party.

The trumpets sounded as the horses were reined in and the elves dismounted.

Gil-galad brushed the dust from his clothing and looking up, spotted Elrond.  He approached his herald, arms out, his face wreathed in smiles.

"Suilad, Tercáno!"* he exclaimed, and would have made an additional remark, had not Elrond's powerful fist landed squarely on his jaw.

The attending elves watched in stunned silence as Elrond grasped the high king by the tunic and pulled him to his feet, only to land a blow more forceful than the previous one.  

The king's body guard awoke out of their amazed stupor, restraining the peredhel before he could deliver a third assault.  Gil-galad sat on the ground, a hand to his lacerated face, spitting a bloody tooth onto the ground.

"Leave him be!" he gasped.  "Immediately!" 

"But Sire!" began the captain of the guard.

"Is your hearing faulty?" asked Gil-galad, struggling to his feet.  A healer approached, but the king dismissed him with a wave of his hand and gave an order.  "Let the troops stand down."

He looked up and his eyes met Elrond's.  His foster son turned his back on his ruler and walked away.

Every eye was upon Gil-galad as he stood quietly for a moment.

The high king became irritated. "Perhaps no one was attending?  I ordered the troops to stand down."   

The elves closed their gaping mouths long enough to carry out the king's directive. The ranks were dismissed.  The field emptied slowly; at long last none were left except Glorfindel, Erestor, Gil-galad and his servant Lindir, who looked quite pleased at this turn of events. 

Gil-galad raised a disapproving eyebrow at him.  "You require instruction in the performance of your duties?"

Lindir bowed and withdrew, barely concealing his satisfied smile.   The king turned to the younger elves in front of him, stating the obvious.  "It has happened then."

"Some time ago," concurred Glorfindel.  "At the fall of Eregion."

"I thought it strange, that you did not eventually attempt to return to Lindon," Gil-galad sighed, "and I suspected as much."  

He lifted anxious eyes to look into Glorfindel's.  "How has it gone with him?" 

Glorfindel returned his gaze squarely. "Think of the worst you could imagine.  That is how it has gone."

Gil-galad closed his eyes and turned his head to the side, spitting out more blood.  "I thank Eru he has two such stalwart companions."  He met Erestor's eyes, and then quickly looked away again, for that elf was making no attempt to conceal the disgust he felt.  

The silence that ensued grew uncomfortable.  "You should go to him," said Gil-galad finally.

Glorfindel lifted his eyebrow.  "You have naught to say to him?"   

"Would he listen?" countered the high king.

"You should try."

Gil-galad cleared his throat and looked uneasy.  "He is too incensed.  Perhaps when his rage subsides somewhat." 

Glorfindel's eyes hardened.  "I have called you many an evil name in my heart over the years.  Until now, I had not listed coward among them."

"You do me an injustice," said Gil-galad, his eyes flashing.  "Forcing a confrontation under these circumstances is pointless.  There will be a time and a place for apology and atonement.  He is not ready to accept either.  Leave him with his anger; he will need it to survive."

They held each other's gaze for a long moment while Erestor looked on in stony silence.

"You may be correct," decided Glorfindel at last.  "Eru willing, that time and place will come soon, making the remainder of your tenure on Arda worse than Mandos ever could be."

"Being aware that he remembers and looks upon me with such hatred is a punishment in itself," replied Gil-galad.

"Only the first, of many more to come, with any luck, my King," responded Glorfindel, bitterly.  "May the punishments never cease."

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elrond could not walk away from the battlefield quickly enough.  Away from the troops, away from the stares, away from . . . him.

His heart was pounding, his breath ragged, his stomach twisted into a knot from anxiety and adrenaline. He needed to be alone.

It was not difficult to find solitude, for all had been in attendance on the field, and were there still.  He saw no one as he walked.

In spite of that, he felt too exposed, too vulnerable and he searched for a refuge from prying eyes, a difficult task on a plain such as this. His eye fell upon a horse grazing and his mind determined this sight to be a solution.  He approached the animal, who gazed at him with the disinterested curiosity apparent in all such beasts.

Elrond reached down to the grasses then offered a handful of grains and the horse's heart was won.  He spoke softly to it in Quenya and the animal nuzzled him in encouragement.   

Elrond took this as a sign of acceptance and grasping the horse's mane, pulled himself onto its back.  He leaned forward, speaking quietly into the alert ear and the animal started off at a steady pace, making for a far away copse of trees.

Once beneath the boughs, Elrond dismounted and inspected the sorry state of his knuckles.  Lacerations, torn flesh, no broken bones, thankfully.  A small price to pay for the pleasure he felt upon striking the blows, to say nothing of the satisfaction of seeing the look on Gil-galad's face after they had landed. 

_And so it has begun, _Elrond thought, _the time when payment becomes due._  He buried his face in the horse's mane and willed himself to be strong.  _You have won the first battle, be glad, be jubilant.     _

He sighed and sat down with his back against a tree, letting his mind wander back to the scene on the battlefield.  His body had acted instinctively, with no conscious directive on his part, lashing out, out of control . . .

He attempted to clear the tumult in his head and think rationally. _Would I have killed him, _he wondered, if others had not stepped in?  He thought it likely and shuddered at the intensity of his anger.

He paused suddenly, asking himself if he really wanted to see the king dead._  Suppose I had killed him, back there, what would I be feeling now?  Happiness?  Would there be any satisfaction?_

Elrond rubbed his hands across his face, leaving smears of blood.  Death is not the solution, death would be the easy way of things and he did not want the king to have an easy escape.  Long slow torture would be preferable, and he almost grinned at the thought, his anger subsiding slightly. 

He wondered if he should go back and seek Gil-galad out, demand an explanation, an apology, then in the same breath, he knew he could never do it.  He did not want to see his cousin at all anymore, ever. He came to a decision and got to his feet.  His resolve grew harder as he rode back to his tent.

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Glorfindel cleared his throat as he pushed aside the tent flap, but there was no one to hear him, the tent was empty.  He closed his eyes for a moment, and then looked again.  The tent was more than empty of Elrond, it was empty of his belongings as well.  He stood perplexed for a time and then he began to wonder.  He met Erestor as he was walking towards the area where the horses were stabled.

Glorfindel came right to the point.  "Elrond is gone."

Erestor raised his eyebrows.  "Gone?  Gone where?"

"Gone home, I would imagine.  I am just checking to see if his horse is here, but I doubt it," replied Glorfindel.  

"I would doubt it as well," agreed Erestor.  "He would return to Imladris, that is the most logical assumption." 

"Indeed yes." Glorfindel was not at all sure his friend would be thinking logically.  "We will presume he has returned home."

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Imladris_

Elrond crossed the ford and approached the hidden gate with caution.  He did not think there would be a guard, but he was not sure, perhaps Celeborn had become nervous with most of the males away.  He was not challenged and he relaxed.

Half way down the steep path he turned aside to a ridge where he could view the entire valley.  He sat quietly on his horse and contemplated the massive unfinished structure that was to become his house.

He closed his eyes and prayed with all his heart that it would become a place of hope and security and continue to be a haven for those in need, a reflection of its original mission as a refuge from the enemy, although sometimes the enemy was not easily recognizable as such.

It was his refuge, at any rate, if no one else's.  His defense against the world at large, his strength, a place he could claim as his own, finally, unbeholden to anyone.  His home, at last.

                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Greetings, Herald 


	20. Chapter 30

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past  
by: DLR 2002******

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

_The Second Age of Middle-earth, 1750_

_Imladris_

**Chapter 30**

Elrond reread the letter he held in his hand, and then perused it a third time for good measure.  He passed his fingers over his face and tried to quell the nausea he felt rising in his throat.

Fifty years he had been given, years of relative peace and solitude.  Years of study and reflection, years of immersing himself in the ancient texts, untangling the forgotten languages, a soothing tonic for his troubled soul.

He dropped the missive onto his desk as if touching it was painful.  In a quick display of temper, he pulled a knife from his boot top and with a flick of his wrist, threw it, skewering the parchment to the heavy wooden table.

Glorfindel, a few feet away, looked up from his correspondence, startled.  "What in Mandos . . . ?" he began, but Elrond had stalked out of the library without a word.   

Glorfindel cautiously approached the desk and the offending piece of paper.  He saw the royal seal and his heart sank.  He read it quickly, taking in the important points.

There was to be a council, and it would meet at Imladris.  The high king mandated that all elven leaders be present by the end of the month.

Glorfindel read this directive with growing anxiety.  _What was Gil-galad thinking? _Possibly he realized that Elrond would never attend him at Lindon, even if given a direct order.

Glorfindel stared at the paper, realizing how much it must have hurt the high king to write it, perhaps as much as it hurt Elrond to receive it.

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"This is wonderful news," said Celeborn, smiling.  

Erestor looked up, encouragingly.  "Tell me."

"My family will finally be joining me here," related Celeborn. "Galadriel has tired of Lórinand.  She and Celebrían will be journeying to Imladris.  Also, the high king has summoned her to a council.  Luckily this mirrors her own plans or woe is he." 

Erestor smirked.  "One does not incur the wrath of Galadriel lightly."

Celeborn laughed good-naturedly. "Nay, most decidedly not." 

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Glorfindel paused in his stride and turned back surprised.  "Are you not coming?" 

"No, indeed," replied Elrond.  Glorfindel stared at him.  "The lady frightens me," explained Elrond with a grin.

Glorfindel snickered.  "Tis no excuse for bad manners.  Celeborn will be offended that you did not appear to welcome her."

"Let him be offended, then," said Elrond stubbornly.  "I have much to occupy myself here."

Glorfindel raised his eyebrows.  "She cannot frighten you that much, that you are willing to risk her wrath in this fashion.  It is only proper."

Elrond sighed and put down his quill. "You forget my newest policy."  

Glorfindel frowned.  "Which is?" 

"Avoiding guests as much as possible," replied Elrond.

"Ah yes," said Glorfindel, remembering the impending visit of the high king.  "I will be the first to aid you in that particular endeavor, but this is different, come."  

Elrond sighed again as he reluctantly followed his friend.

The two elf-lords had just entered the Great Hall when Celeborn appeared from the other side with Galadriel, his wife, on his arm.  "Ah, here is the Lord of Imladris."  

Elrond bowed.  Galadriel turned her icy blue eyes to him.  "Cousin," she said quietly as he straightened up.

"Lady," he returned.  "Welcome to Imladris."

She smiled.  "I thank thee.  Allow me to present my daughter, Celebrían."  She stepped to one side to reveal a young elf-maiden who had stood concealed behind her mother.

"My Lady," whispered Elrond, entranced by the mere sight of her.

Celebrían looked about at her surroundings somewhat unhappily. "Lord Elrond." 

There was an awkward pause before Celeborn intervened, thankfully.  "Come, I will show you to your chambers to freshen up."  He led his family away, while Elrond continued to stare after them.

"Very interesting how some people show fear," observed Glorfindel, dryly, looking over at Elrond, then glancing meaningfully lower.

Elrond came out of his daze with a start.  "What?" he asked, noting the direction of his friend's gaze and reddening.

"Not a thing," the golden haired elf declared with great innocence.  "I was just thinking how pretty Celeborn's daughter is, apparently you were as well."

Elrond glared at his friend.  "Do not even consider it."

Glorfindel held up his hands.  "I consider nothing," he said, highly amused, which only served to deepen Elrond's scowl.  "I will, in fact, walk away while I still have my head attached to my shoulders."   _Nobody, _he mused, _could frown as effectively as Elrond.  _Glorfindel left grinning, as the scowl followed him to the exit.

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elrond reclined in a lounge on his terrace, reading lazily.  He made several attempts to concentrate, then gave it up entirely as he dozed in the warm sunshine, his thoughts a pleasant jumble.

He was startled into wakefulness suddenly by a crash and a high-pitched yelp.  He raised his eyebrows as a most unladylike oath came to his ears.  Elrond rounded the garden path to see his latest houseguest unsuccessfully attempting to scale the stone wall.

"May I be of assistance?" he asked, startling her to no end. 

"Aiee!" She put her hand over her heart.  "Do not sneak up on one!" 

Elrond looked at Celebrían with astonished eyes, stifling a grin.  "Lady, what are you doing?"

She sighed.  "I was walking along this wall when I tried to reach the fruit in this tree."  She indicated it.  "I lost balance and fell.  I was attempting to regain the wall when you startled me so."

Elrond was amused.  "You were walking on top of the wall?"

"Indeed," replied Celebrían.  "Is it not allowed?"

"Nay, not at all."  Elrond smiled.  "Wall climb as you will."

He stood looking down at her and his pulse quickened at the sight of her beauty, enhanced somehow by the stray leaves dangling from her silvery blonde hair. 

"Allow me to reach the object of your desire," said he as he picked an apple from the tree and handed it to her.  He chose another for himself and invited her to sit on a nearby bench.

They ate in silence for a moment, until Elrond gathered enough nerve to make a comment.  "I perceive you are unhappy here in Imladris." 

Celebrían looked embarrassed.  "Well yes, this is true, I did not wish to leave Lórinand to begin with and this place is so different."

"I have never been there," said Elrond.  "Tell me of it."

She shook her head, smiling.  "I am sorry; I lack the words to truly describe its beauty.  I will say that it is the fairest of all dwellings.  There are no other trees like the trees of that land.  In the autumn their leaves fall not, but turn to gold.

Not until spring comes and the new greens open do they fall and then the boughs are laden with yellow flowers and the floor of the wood is golden."* She paused and sighed sadly.

"You are indeed homesick," said Elrond, "and I am sorry.  It sounds beautiful."

Celebrían was reflective.  "A dear friend I left behind as well."

Elrond took a quick glance at her and his heart became troubled.  There was a long pause as he contemplated the implications of this statement.  She was not betrothed, he knew, but perhaps her heart was already given to another?

All semblances of polite chatter left him and he sat in stony silence.

"I . . . I should be going now," she stammered, a little nervous of Elrond's forbidding countenance.

He jumped at her sudden words.  "Forgive me, I am being rude."

She rose hurriedly.  "Nay, not at all.  I thank you for the fruit and the conversation," she added as she walked away, leaving Elrond staring after her in a most forlorn way.

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_The anger was still there, as strong as ever, filling his mind, filling his heart.  He knew it was a form of defense, he also knew he should really not be quite so angry anymore, but anger was safe, anger held him together._

He watched the elves congregate in the courtyard and steadied himself for the confrontation soon to come.

He thought back a few days to the high king's arrival.  He had watched hidden, unsure of his reaction, hoping to gather strength.  Gil-galad had not questioned his absence, he knew the reason.

And now, now it was time once again to face the problem, face his inner conflicts, face the betrayer of his trust.

Elrond stole a glance at Glorfindel and relaxed slightly.  That elf was apprehensive enough for all of them.  Galadriel and Celeborn entered the courtyard, and Elrond's thoughts abruptly went off onto a different tangent.  A wave of pleasure settled over him as he contemplated Celebrían, picturing her very close to him, _her hair . . . her eyes . . ._

"The High King!" a voice announced, startling him.

All stood as Gil-galad entered the enclosure.  Pleasant thoughts were driven fiercely out of his mind as Elrond looked upon his cousin.  Glorfindel glanced at his friend and silently communicated _"Please, no fist fights today."  Elrond seemed to hear the thought and gave him a reassuring look._

He stepped forward.  "Friends of old," he began, "welcome to my house.  We are called together here at the behest of the High King."  Elrond needed to take a deep breath before he could continue.  "I am pleased to present our esteemed ruler, Ereinion Gil-galad!" he finally said, as he stepped back and closed his eyes.

The high king beheld the expectant faces of the assemblage and began to speak.  He talked long about the recent conflict that had left Eregion in ruins, Eriador a wasteland.

"I commend the efforts of those who contributed to the building of this new stronghold known as Imladris," Gil-galad stated.  "I declare it to be a haven for all elves in the north and a major refuge for the Noldor."  He paused and glanced over the crowd.  "I also declare its master to be my Vice Regent."    

There was a silence as everyone absorbed this statement.  All eyes turned towards Elrond, who stood stunned. 

Gil-galad smiled at the reaction his words had caused.  "I adjourn this council for one hour to allow you time to compose yourselves before we move on to new business."

The council members broke immediately into small groups, conversing intently.  Elrond walked away from the others and stood staring at a nearby waterfall.

"Does this surprise you?" a familiar voice asked.  He turned to see Gil-galad a few paces behind him and he quickly looked ahead once more.

"You are last of the line of Fingolfin, the high kingship is your birthright," the king said.

Elrond was silent. His voice was thick with suppressed emotion when he finally spoke.  "Why do you not go and father yourself some sons?  Leave me out of your considerations."

"That is not an option," Gil-galad began quietly.

"I have no wish to be your heir," Elrond lashed out angrily.  "You are not my father, I am not your son, and you have made that fact abundantly clear."

"Nethellon," began Gil-galad.

"Do not call me that," exclaimed Elrond, his voice shaking.  "Do not ever call me that again."

Gil-galad closed his eyes. "All that I did, all that I ever said, was from love for you."

"Love!" Elrond was astounded.  "Lust, you mean, you have never loved me."

"What I call love and what you call love may differ," began Gil-galad, and there was a noise to the left as an elf passed by close to them, a reminder that this was a public place.

"We will speak of this again, in a more appropriate setting," said the high king.   

"I care not what you have to say," muttered Elrond as he turned and walked away.

Gil-galad stared after his foster son with sorrow._  It was to be expected_.  He could not help but wonder what Elrond's reaction would be to the rest of his plans.

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The blue stone gleamed brighter than a clear summer's sky as he laid the circlet on the table.  

"This ring is called Vilya," Gil-galad said.  "It is the Ring of the Air, most powerful of the Three."  Galadriel stared at it as if mesmerized.  "I give this ring to my Vice Regent," the high king continued.  "May it aid him in maintaining a refuge against the Enemy here at Imladris."

Elrond looked briefly at the ring on the table.  He thought of Celebrimbor and he turned away with revulsion.  

"May it aid me, you say?  It is a tool of the Enemy, not a weapon that can be used against him."

"Nay, you are mistaken," said Galadriel.  "Gorthaur has no power over these three.  He will see your mind if you wear it, but he will not control your mind."

Elrond snorted.  "He could bend them to his will with ease, I expect."

Galadriel concurred.  "If perchance he should gain possession of them, that is a possibility."

"What is the use of having it," Elrond muttered, "if one cannot wear it?"

"A power emanates from it, worn or not," said Gil-galad.  "Although it was not fashioned for warfare, I believe it was of some help to me in the last conflict."

"Would it not be wisest to just destroy them," asked Elrond, "rather than risk conquest with these rings as booty?"

"Gorthaur would seek conquest whether they existed or not," said Galadriel.  "Tis his desire to have mastery over the entire land."

"Best to have a weapon against him, should that come to pass, than no weapon at all," put in Gil-galad.  He looked at Elrond.  "You will take it then?"

Elrond stared quietly at the ring on the table.  "Yea, I will be the guardian of this thing, yet I fear that they will be the undoing of us all.  What is to keep us from suffering the same fate as Celebrimbor?"

Gil-galad and Galadriel were silent, having no answer for him.  A bell sounded, signaling the evening meal.

"Wait please," whispered the high king to Elrond as Galadriel left the room.  Elrond stiffened but obeyed.  "I would continue our conversation," began Gil-galad.

Elrond continued to face the doorway, his back to his cousin.  "You have something to say then?  Say it and be done."

"All of these later years," said Gil-galad.  "Have I not done everything for you?  Shown you every consideration?"

Elrond turned to face him in a flash.  "You want gratitude from me now?  Do you never tire of always taking from me and never giving?  You think perhaps that this qualifies as your atonement? Your Mandos here on Arda?" 

Elrond paused, breathing heavily.  "So now you consider yourself a doer of good deeds?  This is what is behind this vice regency and this ring of power, is it not?  You consider it recompense?"

He sneered.  "Give the power to Galadriel, she wants it, she craves it."

"We are not a matriarchal society," began Gil-galad.

"In considering me an heir of kings you are accepting a matriarchal line of descent, are you not?" demanded Elrond, angrily.  "Go one step further and make Galadriel your vice regent."

"I have chosen you," Gil-galad said quietly.  "Not as payment for past suffering, but because you were born to it, you are next in line, being descended from the second son of Finwë and she from the third.  That is not even the most important reason."

He paused.  "It is because you are the most capable one for the position.  Galadriel has no compassion, and very little tolerance.  She would be a most difficult ruler.  Perhaps her craving for power is also her weakness."

Elrond closed his eyes in resignation for a long moment.  "Fine, then, I agree to it."  His teeth were tightly clenched.  "I could never deny you anything, after all."

At that moment Lindir entered Elrond's study.  "Sire," he said, "there are messengers arrived from Tar Minastir, they await you in the library."

Gil-galad nodded, dismissing him.  "Elrond," he began.

"Leave me," Elrond whispered, his eyes still closed.  Gil-galad complied, but not without a look of concern.

Elrond sat down at his desk and picked up the beautiful sapphire ring.  It reflected the flickering flames of the candles and gleamed brightly as he held it in his hand.

_The legacy of the Silmarils,_ he thought, his mind turning to Eärendil.  Perhaps it was fitting that he should possess this thing after all.

He gazed at it, hypnotized, for long hours, missing the evening meal, missing the entertainment in honor of the royal visit, missing an entire night of sleep, utterly buried beneath the vast weight of a small circlet of gold.

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FotR p. 349 Houghton Mifflin 1987 ed.  

A/N: The year of this council is vague, occurring sometime after the defeat of Sauron in Eriador, but also allowing Galadriel time to arrive. I have chosen to give Elrond a little extra breathing room.  Celebrían's age is also unknown, but she is at least 350 (a playful age amongst elves, I'm sure ;))  


	21. Chapter 31

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past  
by: DLR 2002**

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

**Chapter 31**

"We have been over this Naneth,"* sighed Celebrían.

"Indeed we have," agreed Galadriel, "and my mind remains the same, you are a Noldorin princess, you will not marry a Silvan gatekeeper." 

"I love Halmír," said Celebrían, looking at the floor and biting her lip.  

"Which is why we left Lórinand to begin with," stated Galadriel angrily, "to enable you to forget those feelings."

Celebrían looked stubborn.  "Separation will not achieve that."

"I disagree," said Galadriel.  "This is merely a childish infatuation, in time, you will recover from it."

"I am not a child, and it will never disappear," declared Celebrían angrily.

"Your actions speak louder than your words," said Galadriel coldly. There was a pause as mother and daughter glared at each other.

Galadriel closed her eyes and sighed, changing the subject.  "I have noted the way Lord Elrond looks at you, his suit would be very agreeable to me, should he choose to pursue it."

Celebrían looked apprehensive and her anger melted.  "There is something about him that frightens me, he is filled with anger and he seems so troubled."

"I have noticed that of which you speak," Galadriel agreed.  "But he is not angry with you; I do not doubt that he would show you anything but love."

Celebrían remained unconvinced.  "I do not think that I am the one destined to tame that anger."

"It seems to be your fate to try," said her mother firmly, "the mirror has foretold it."

                   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Her voice came to him in his dreams and he heeded her call, following.  "Celebrían," he whispered and she turned and paused, waiting.

His hands reached for her garment and he slipped it off her shoulders, dropping it to the floor. Her beauty stood revealed to his appreciative gaze.  "Meleth-nîn," he whispered, reaching out to caress her bare skin.  She melted into his arms and he engaged her in a deep passionate kiss.

He closed his eyes, touching her, fondling her, feeling her hands returning his attentions, softly caressing him at the very source of his arousal.

"Ohhh," he moaned and his eyelids flickered open to behold the leering face of Gil-galad.  "No!" he yelled, sitting up, immediately awake, his heart beating rapidly.

He ran his fingers through his hair and hugged himself, waiting for the calmness that would come to him eventually.

_Gil-galad is not here,__ he has gone back to Lindon, do not distress yourself.  Think about Celebrían, his mind said, and it was good advice, relaxing and pleasant, in spite of the unsated passion that continued to grow in him with each passing day._

He had done something to frighten her; he could feel it, although he had not a clue as to what.  She seemed so shy, avoiding him perhaps.  _Well, you are making progress,_ he grinned wryly at himself.  _At least you do not vomit at the sight of her_.   

Elrond sighed and grew weary of these unanswered questions.  He drifted back into considerations of how she might look beneath the robe.  He smiled and fell back to sleep with this pleasant image in his mind.

                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lightning storms in the mountains arrived quickly, with no warning, the intensity magnified by the echoes resounding off the rocky walls and canyons.

The first thunderclap startled Elrond and he swore as the plants he had been gathering spilled out of his bag into the bushes. He spent too much time retrieving them, but they were rare, some of them, and the gathering of the herbs had taken up the better part of the day, so he was loathe to leave them scattered there.

The rain was falling in torrents long before he had picked up enough to feel satisfied.  The storm was an intense one, even to Elrond, who had grown accustomed to the weather in the mountains over the years.

He began to realize a bit late that he should find shelter immediately.  He looked around, gauging his position.  His vision was obscured by the sheets of rain, but he thought he had to be fairly close to a cave that he knew of, and he started to head towards it.

Elrond paused suddenly, listening.  _Could that be sobbing that reached his ears?_  The booming thunder drowned out lesser noises, and he struggled to hear through nature's din.

His ears led him to the sound finally, and to his great distress, he found Celebrían, clinging to a tree trunk, weeping with fear.  "Lady," he shouted above the noise of the storm, putting his hand to her shoulder.

She became aware of him and transferred her arms from the tree to Elrond, clinging to him.

"I cannot walk," she said, crying.  "I have injured my ankle," and she showed him the joint in question, bruised and swollen.

"Allow me to carry you," he shouted, and she nodded in agreement. Her arms encircled his neck and he scooped her up, marveling at how light she was.  They held onto each other tightly as Elrond fought his way through the wind and rain to the cave he had in mind earlier.

It was a shallow enclosure with a wide opening, so in essence, it was more of a large overhang of rock, rather than a real cave.

Elrond laid Celebrían gently on the floor and sat beside her with a sigh of relief, grateful for even the small amount of shelter the cave afforded them.

Celebrían opened her eyes to find Elrond looking at her with concern.  "How did you injure your ankle?" 

She sighed. "The storm broke and I was frightened.  I tripped and fell over a root."

Elrond gave her a judgmental look.  "You should not have been out here this far alone to begin with.  What were you doing?"

She sighed again.  "Do not start with me please, you are sounding just like Adar*.  I was merely walking, trying to think, nothing else."

Elrond snorted, but refrained from further admonitions.  "May I look at it?" 

"Please do," she responded, and lifting her leg, offered it to him.  Elrond took her foot into his lap and with gentle fingers, began to massage the swollen appendage.  He bent her ankle this way and that, inquiring if movement was painful.

"Oh," she grimaced.  "Yes, that hurts, terribly."

Elrond completed his diagnosis.  "You have no broken bones, merely a muscle strain."

Celebrían could not take her eyes off of him as he continued to knead her foot and ankle, his long slender fingers easing her pain.  _The hands of a healer__.  She recalled hearing somewhere that he was descended from Lúthien, who, being half Maia, was the most beautiful elven maiden to ever walk the paths of Middle-earth.  She could see that beauty reflected in Elrond's face, for he was startlingly handsome, in the rare moments when he was not scowling at someone._

_His deep, dark eyes were a reflection of his soul, she thought, _serene, yet stormy, hinting of passionate fires, hidden just below the surface.__

She had seldom seen an elf with black hair, such as his, most of the elves of Lórinand were very blond. She found herself looking at his shoulders and chest, his muscles visible through the thin rain-soaked shirt he wore.

He looked up at her suddenly and she blushed, embarrassed to be caught staring at him.  He took no notice of her discomfort, his eyes being drawn to her breasts, where he could clearly view her every attribute through the wet fabric that clung to the curves of her body.

He reddened as well and returned his attention to her ankle, trying desperately to quiet his labored breathing and the quick pounding of his heart.  _Control yourself__.  She is an innocent and already frightened of you.  Moreover she is too young for you to be thinking such thoughts of her. Be calm._

Celebrían giggled self-consciously.  "I must look like a sight," she murmured, misinterpreting his stare.  "Now I know how a drowned rat feels."

Elrond smiled at her jest and his entire face was transformed, so pleasant and endearing that she wondered why she had spent the last few years thinking him forbidding, unapproachable. She suddenly remembered about Halmír, and she bit her lip in distress, guiltily pushing that unwelcome thought away. 

"The storm is passing," Elrond observed.  "Shall we test the strength of your ankle?"

Celebrían nodded, but her mouth tightened in apprehension.  His arm encircled her back and he pulled her onto her feet.  She winced in pain as she unsuccessfully attempted to put weight on the injury.

Elrond lifted his eyebrows. "Well then, it appears you will need some assistance." 

"I have no wish to be a burden to you," she started.

"You are not," he interrupted, "not in the least."

Elrond picked up his bag of plants and indicated she should climb on his back.  Celebrían smiled and complied, her arms encircling his neck as he hooked his elbows beneath her knees.   She wearily laid her head against his back and almost dozed as he made the long trek back to the house.

Elrond entered the Hall of Healing and laid Celebrían gently down upon a bed.  He made a fire and heated a kettle of water as he selected jars from the shelves.  She watched him intently, wondering why every little detail about him, the way he looked, the way he moved, seemed so interesting to her, all of a sudden.

Elrond was preoccupied, mixing a poultice for her swollen ankle. When he deemed the concoction complete, he spread it on a piece of cloth.

Celebrían regarded it with distaste, wrinkling her nose.  "Eww, I hope that is not for me." 

"Indeed it is," replied Elrond.  "Present your injury to me please."

She complied with great reluctance and he appeared not to notice her discomfort as he wrapped the pungent mixture around her foot.

"We will leave this on until it cools, and then we will apply cold, to bring down the swelling."

Celebrían looked at him with wide eyes.  "You are a Hîrnested?" 

"I have enough knowledge to claim that title."  Elrond saw her puzzled expression. "What is it?" 

"I . . . I . . . it is nothing," she stammered, her face turning pink.  "It seems there is much about you that I have been unaware of all this time." 

"Ah," he said, his eyes twinkling, "and I of you, as well.  For example, I am totally unaware of your favorite color."

Celebrían smiled.  "You jest with me."  

"Nay," said Elrond, trying hard to look serious.  "I wish to know."

She acquiesced, reluctantly. "Well, all right, although it seems so trivial.  It is the blue of a clear summer's sky."

"This does not surprise me," murmured Elrond.  "Although no hue could be as beautiful as the one that is reflected in your eyes."   

She responded by gazing into his for a long moment and time seemed to stand still.  Elrond broke the stare first and looked away, his face flushed as he seemed to be struggling inwardly with some strong emotion.

He removed the cold cloths from her ankle and reached for some long strips of fabric.  "I will now bind this firmly to give it some support and keep the swelling down as well."

He proceeded to encase the injury with the bandages.  "You will stay in bed and keep this elevated."

Celebrían sighed.  "Stay in bed?  For how long?"

"A fortnight, at the least," replied Elrond.  "This is quite a severe sprain."

She groaned.  "Aiee, I will die of boredom."

Elrond gave her a bemused smile.  "What do you like to read?  I will bring you books."

"Very little," she admitted.  "Study is boring to me."

"Did I say textbooks?  Story books, I meant."

"Still," she shrugged.  "I do not read much."

"I would enjoy reading to you," Elrond offered.

Celebrían brightened, smiling.  "I would enjoy that as well."

He smiled back at her, and his troubled soul suddenly felt a great peace, for the first time in nearly two thousand years.

                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Mother  

*Father

A/N: I do not pretend to have any knowledge of herbal remedies, so don't look at that too closely. ;)


	22. Chapter 32

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past   
by: DLR 2002******

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

_The Second Age of Middle-earth, 2280_

_Imladris_

**Chapter 32**

"So, you are not going to tell me where you are going?"  Erestor was clearly annoyed.

Elrond winked at Glorfindel.  "We are merely taking a little pleasure trip, there is no need for concern."

"There is also no need for secrecy," argued Erestor.  "You are going to Belfalas,* why not simply admit it?"

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. "Belfalas?  Is that where we are bound?  This is news to me," he said with extreme innocence.  "What could we possibly seek in Belfalas?"

Erestor sighed and closed his eyes. "You know as well as I the one you seek."

Elrond and Glorfindel exchanged a puzzled glance. "To whom are you referring?" asked Elrond.

Erestor gave up, defeated.  "Fine, have your jest.  I will be very glad to see both of you gone from here for a good long time."

Elrond gripped his friend's shoulder.  "I apologize; we were having fun at your expense.  The journey is indeed a serious commission from the high king and I have written out for you a complete agenda, it is on my study desk.  The primary destination is Umbar,* a diplomatic mission.   Belfalas is merely a personal side trip, as you have guessed."

Erestor nodded, placated.  "You will take a guard with you please," he requested, although his tone was more that of a command.

Glorfindel smirked and saluted. "Yes, Lord, all shall be as you wish."

Elrond smiled as well.  "I am Vice Regent; naturally I will have a massive entourage traveling with me wherever I go, seeing to my every whim." He paused, his eyes twinkling.  "Or not."

Erestor regarded him with the same expression he might bestow on an errant elfling.   "A guard, please, you will be traveling very close to Mordor, after all."

"Indeed," said Elrond, becoming serious.  "That stop is listed on the itinerary, as well."

Glorfindel paled.  "We are going to Mordor?  You have never mentioned this."

"Did I not?" returned Elrond, casually.  "Ah well, no matter," he shrugged.  "I mention it now."

Glorfindel swallowed, took a deep breath and began again.  "We have an appointment with Sauron?"

"Why yes," concurred Elrond with an amazingly straight face.  "We have an invitation to dine."  He frowned.  "Forgive me for not apprizing you of it."

Glorfindel looked almost alarmed.  "Alas, it appears that my calendar is full."     

"A pity," replied Elrond.  "I know Gorthaur will be severely disappointed."

"Pray, make my excuses, will you?" requested Glorfindel.

Elrond sighed.  "Ah, the great sacrifices I make for friendship."

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Imladris, 1755_

_"It is not fair," she complained._

_"Nay, it is not," he murmured._

_ Celebrían pouted.  "I have just become accustomed to this place and she wants to leave again."_

_Elrond touched her hand in reassurance.  "You will like the seashore; it will be a good experience for you."_

_She looked away from him.  "You would have me gone as well, then?"  _

_He stood very close beside her, close enough to inhale her scent, but never making contact. "It would not be proper for you to stay without a guardian, you are aware of that." _

_Celebrían snorted and Elrond looked amused.  "You are still considered young, you should be with your parents a while longer."  He paused for a moment.  "I did not have any parents, not really.  I envy you."_

_"Do not envy me; you would not want to have a mother whose mind changes with the direction of the wind."_

_"She merely wants to live by the sea, do not judge so harshly," said Elrond gently._

_"And five years ago, she was determined that I . . ." she stopped suddenly and reddened._

_"That you what?" he asked._

_"Nothing, nothing at all," she whispered.  "Everything has become so confusing, I have no idea what is right or wrong anymore, or where I truly belong."_

_"This period may be beneficial to you then, a time for introspection and clarification."_

_He touched her shoulder lightly and she tilted her face up to his.  "May I correspond with you?"  _

_"Yes, I should welcome that very much," she replied, although her eyes looked troubled._

_He brushed his lips across her forehead in a gentle kiss and she turned and departed, walking slowly down the stairs. . . _

"Elrond!"

He jumped as a voice accosted him, breaking into his reverie.  "Mandos, you startled me."  He scowled at Glorfindel who grinned.  "Shall I guess what you were daydreaming about?" 

Elrond smiled as well.  "No need to ask for you know the answer already."

Glorfindel studied his friend.  "I only wonder why you have waited so long to make this journey."

Elrond sighed.  "My duties as vice regent have been plentiful, as you well know." He continued to pack clothing into a saddle bag.  "There is another reason, though, more of an impression of some kind of wall standing in the way of a true courtship." 

He paused.  "She made a comment once, that indicated her heart belonged to another, so I have been loathe to press my suit with much ardor.  She seemed however, to be attracted to me, but that barrier was always there."

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow.  "And now?"       

"Now," Elrond added, "there is a change.  We have corresponded over the years and I feel that we have become friends.  I am hoping that the wall exists no longer, for I see some evidence to that effect in her letters." 

He grew thoughtful.  "She felt the need of a period of reflection, and I have had my own problems to reconcile."  He became silent.

Glorfindel prodded him gently. "And have you dealt with these problems?" 

"No, not completely, but five hundred years of contemplation, introspection and separation from the offending party have had theirbenefits," said Elrond with a wry smile.  "Also, we are going very near Belfalas, we may as well visit," he added, his eyes twinkling.

Glorfindel chuckled.  "Fifty leagues to the west is not 'very near', it is a considerable side trip."

"Fine, do not trouble yourself, you need not accompany me," said Elrond in an effort to act insulted.

Glorfindel choked on his glass of wine in mid-swallow.  He smirked.  "There is not a chance on Arda that I would miss this."

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Ithilien_

The burning sensation went from tolerable to unbearable in a scant minute.  Elrond winced and quickly pulled the chain he wore around his neck from its position next to his skin to lie on the outside of his clothing.

He held it up at eye level to better observe the beautiful sapphire ring dangling at the end.  _Did it seem to glow?_  It was certainly surrounded by an aura of some kind, not to mention the heat emanating from it.

Glorfindel materialized suddenly by his side, his eyes wide.  "Is that what I think it is?" 

"Hush!"  Elrond glanced toward the other elves sitting around the campfire.  He moved further into the shadows.  "Indeed, this is Vilya, Ring of the Air."

Glorfindel became concerned. "What is happening, why do you hold it in such a manner?" 

"It burns with a fire of some kind," replied Elrond in a low voice.  "I have no clue as to what is causing this excessive heat."

"Has the obvious explanation not occurred to you?" whispered Glorfindel.  "We are only a stone's throw from Mordor; the power of Gorthaur is undoubtedly affecting it."

Elrond nodded.  "I agree with you.  As we approach Mordor, the warmth has become apparent, growing steadily.  Now, though, suddenly, it burns like molten ore."

"We are foolish to tarry here," responded Glorfindel.  "We must push on immediately."

A sudden high-pitched eerie cry broke into their conversation.

"What in Mandos was that?" whispered Glorfindel, visibly shaken.

Elrond looked quickly around as the elves at the fire rose to their feet, alarmed.  "I know not."

They heard it again, this time from all sides, surrounding them.  Moving as one, the dozen elves drew weapons, their keen eyes searching through the shadowy darkness. A chilled vapor pervaded the air, leaving an icy mist lingering on their skin.  The menacing shapes grew clearer as the evil came closer.

Elrond closed his eyes as the fell voices invaded his mind, commanding him.  His hand relaxed and his sword hit the rocky terrain, a harsh metallic note in the uncanny silence.  As if it was a signal, blades clashed together and one elf after another fell bleeding to the ground.

Glorfindel looked wildly around, struggling to see the ethereal foe.  "Elrond!  Can you not use that thing against them?"

There was suddenly no choice.  Only one path was available and Elrond took it.  Without another thought, he slipped the golden circlet over his finger, disregarding the burning pain.  His eyes were opened and he beheld the enemy uncloaked.  

Wraiths, they were, neither living nor dead.  Swords held out, glittering with malice, they advanced upon their helpless prey.

Elrond held his ground before them and raised his hand aloft.  Unfamiliar words came to his tongue as his clear elven voice rang out, slicing through the gloom filled darkness.  A bright light shone out from the ring on his finger and the wraiths were immediately dismayed.  They pulled back in a disorderly fashion, hissing.

Glorfindel took advantage of the reprieve and grouped the remaining elves together tightly for an onslaught.  They succeeded in driving the enemy away completely, sending them fleeing into the night.

Elrond stared, wide-eyed, seeing nothing, his mind's eye totally eclipsing his physical vision.  He felt the malice of Sauron, burning and searching.  It became aware of the ring bearer and fixed its gaze upon him, boring into his very soul.

It took every ounce of strength Elrond possessed to grasp the ring on his finger and pull it off.  The world returned to normal at once and he breathed a sigh of relief, sinking to his knees.

It was some time before Glorfindel and the remaining elves returned to the campsite.  They found him still kneeling there, his head in his hands, his breath quick and shallow.

Glorfindel approached him, concerned.  "Are you injured?"

"Nay," whispered his friend with a shake of his head.  "What has happened?  I recall very little."

Glorfindel addressed the guards.  "Remain at attention until I give you leave."  He then squatted down beside Elrond. "We were attacked."

"Yes," said Elrond.  "I put on the ring; from there I have no clue."

"A great light shone out," Glorfindel explained.  "You spoke words of a language unknown to me and the enemy fell back."

"The enemy," whispered Elrond, remembering.  "I could see them clearly."

Glorfindel waited in silence.  "They were wraiths," Elrond continued.  "The shadows of men.  They came for the elven ring."

"It attracts them," Glorfindel concluded.

 Elrond agreed. "Apparently."

"We must move now, without delay," urged Glorfindel.

Elrond nodded his assent as he got to his feet.  "Pack up the camp."  He noticed for the first time the fallen elves lying still on the ground.

Glorfindel followed his shocked gaze.  "There are no wounded," he whispered.  "They are all dead."

Elrond counted, his eyes wide with disbelief.  "Five dead?" 

"We should not linger," advised Glorfindel, guessing the direction of his thoughts.

"Nay," said Elrond, still stunned.  "Tie them across their horses, we will think about burial when we are far away from this place.  Perhaps those apparitions do not move in daylight."

Glorfindel moved to carry out the orders as the elves busied themselves breaking camp.

Elrond's face was grim as the extra horses received their grisly baggage.  The image of Celebrimbor returned to him, tormented and mutilated.  He smelled once more the burning corpses of the elves of Eregion and a vision came to him of a great battlefield, a huge army of elves and men, fighting the Enemy on the slopes of a fiery dark mountain.

He put his hand over the ring that hung next to his heart and felt again the power of Sauron, searching for that which he covered with his palm.

"The price is already too high," he whispered, his eyes closed.  "How many more will you claim, ere the end draws nigh?"

Elrond climbed into his saddle, and with a gentle pull to the rein, urged his horse to the southwest.

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

*A southern region of Gondor, a home to Galadriel and Celeborn in the second age

*Fortress of the Númenorians south of the bay of Belfalas.


	23. Chapter 33

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past  
by: DLR 2002******

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

_The Fortress of Umbar_

**Chapter 33**

Glorfindel was incensed.  "You will open this gate at once.  Have you any idea to whom you bar entrance?"

The gatekeeper was unmoved; he looked them up and down with surly sneer.  "Elves are not permitted into the city."

"You will dispatch a message to your lord immediately," Glorfindel demanded.  "Elrond Peredhil, Herald and Vice Regent to Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor insists on admittance." 

The gatekeeper stared at the small party of elves.  Elrond sat in his saddle, his hands folded in front of him and attempted to look haughty, but his lips twitched at Glorfindel's indignation.

The gatekeeper snorted and the metal door slammed in their astonished faces.  Glorfindel stood frozen, open mouthed and speechless.  

Elrond finally let a smile cross his lips.  "Well, that was an exercise in futility."

Glorfindel was beside himself.  In a childish display of temper he stooped and weighed a rock in his hand.  The missile hit the iron door with a resounding clang that reverberated inwards. 

Elrond lost control and laughed out loud as Glorfindel fumed, pacing back and forth.  "Calm yourself," he said when he could find breath.  "This merely confirms our suspicions, do not fret so."

"Insolent mortal," muttered Glorfindel.

"I agree," said Elrond, handing him a flask.  "Console yourself with this."

Glorfindel tasted the liquid and his face brightened.  "I feel perchance this problem has enough depth to require additional consolation?" 

"Alas that I should possess a limited amount of sympathy," lamented Elrond, smiling.

"A pity," replied Glorfindel, keeping the flask unto himself and walking away.

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A shower of sparks flew into the air as another log was thrown into the fire.

Glorfindel's eyes reflected the bright flames.  "You plan on sitting here, how long?"

Elrond sighed.  "Meldir, I now have one goal in life."

A few moments passed and Glorfindel raised his eyebrows.  "Do I need to beg you to apprize me of it?"

"My goal," said Elrond, smiling, "is to teach you patience."

Glorfindel snorted.  "If I have not achieved it in more than two millennia, it is highly unlikely to occur in any lifetime."

Elrond winked.  "I do not shy away from a challenge, no matter how impossible it may seem."

Glorfindel's reply was a raised eyebrow and a dark look. 

"Whom did we have a response from?" continued Elrond.  "The lord of the city?  No."

Glorfindel was silent as Elrond concluded, "We wait to hear the official word."

"No matter how long it takes?"

"Well, no, not indefinitely," answered Elrond.  "Have you an urgent appointment?"

"Nay," said Glorfindel, shaking his head with emphasis.  "I was under the apparently mistaken impression that you did."

"Ah."  Elrond's eyes narrowed.  "Could I possibly ask you to remove your nose from my love affairs?"

"Nay, I think not," responded Glorfindel.  "You will most likely find yourself in need of advice once again and I prefer to be knowledgeable in all aspects."

Elrond arched an eyebrow.  "I was under the impression that I no longer took your advice on these matters, it having been proved faulty in the past." 

"Ah, faulty was it?" asked Glorfindel.  "Well if that is the case, I change it to agree with you, we stay here and wait, then."

Elrond looked at him in silence.  Glorfindel returned his stare.

"We leave at sunrise," said Elrond finally, "response or not."

Glorfindel tried not to look smug.  "That would be agreeable to me."

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Belfalas_

The passing of time had only enhanced her beauty.  Her hair seemed to glimmer with starlight and sunlight, both at once, and her eyes reflected the shimmering blue of a midsummer sky.

Elrond barely noticed the greetings and embraces from Celeborn and Galadriel; he had eyes for one person only.

"Lord Elrond," she addressed him, with a great deal more poise than he remembered.  He took the hand she offered him and kissed it gently.  "My Lady," he murmured, unable to look away from her.

"Come," said Celeborn intrusively, "you will want to bathe, I am certain."

Glorfindel agreed with feeling. "My first priority."

Celebrían smiled and withdrew her hand from Elrond's grasp, as Celeborn gripped him by the shoulder. "I will show you to your chamber, and then we must hear of your errand and tidings of the outside world."

Elrond reluctantly allowed himself to be escorted away from Celebrían, the lure of a warm bath being most appealing right now.  Any quick dunking he had in cold streams the past weeks did not compare in the least.

Servants had just finishing filling the bathtub as Celeborn ushered Elrond into his room.  He motioned Glorfindel to proceed to the next door and turned back to face Elrond.  "I will be in the gardens with Galadriel, come down as soon as you are able, please do not tarry, as we are most eager for news."  

Elrond smiled.  "Ah, you are a most rude host, my Lord.  I have been without a proper bath for six weeks now; you do not know what you ask of me."

Celeborn grinned.  "Very well, tarry then, we will wait.  Would you like an attendant?" He indicated the servants standing to the side.

"Nay," said Elrond.  "I am fine, leave me."  He closed the door behind his host and peeled off his soiled clothing with haste.  He sighed gratefully as he sank into the warm water.  _You are spoiled,_ _soft from too many years lounging around Imladris._  The soap combined with the back brush made him feel as though he had entered paradise.

It was with great reluctance that he finally left the bliss of the bathtub.  There were soft comfortable garments lying across the bed, decidedly preferable to his travel-stained clothing.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror beside the wardrobe and paused.  _You are not the elf you once were_._  Six weeks on the road have nearly made a wraith out of you._  At that thought the smile abruptly dropped from his face and he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Elrond walked into Glorfindel's chamber without ceremony and his eyebrows lifted as he noted that his friend had no less than three servants attending him.  One smiling female was putting intricate plaits into his hair as she whispered closely into his ear, blushing.

Two others, a male and a female were respectively correcting the lamentable state of Glorfindel's finger and toenails.  All four seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely.

"Ahem," coughed Elrond with a smile.  "Duty calls."

Glorfindel sighed and exchanged a few sly winks and small but intimate touches with his new friends as he dismissed them.  The expression on Elrond's face was eloquent.

"Well, you did not require their assistance," said Glorfindel in his own defense.  "I saw no reason to let their considerable talents go to waste."

An expressive eyebrow arched even higher.  "What?" asked Glorfindel, the very picture of innocence.  

Elrond merely shook his head, barely able to contain himself.  "Well you certainly look nice."

"Alas, I cannot say the same for you," remarked Glorfindel, taking in Elrond's quickly combed hair, tied hastily back.

Elrond smiled.  "I am clean, I am warm, nothing else matters much."

"Food?" suggested Glorfindel.

"Ah yes," agreed Elrond

Glorfindel smirked.  "And perhaps later on, other things."

Elrond rolled his eyes.

"Well, six weeks is a long time," argued Glorfindel.

"A day is apparently a long time for you," observed Elrond.

Glorfindel feigned offense.  "Could I possibly ask you to remove your nose from my love affairs?" he mimicked.  

Elrond sighed, but remained silent.

Glorfindel continued to needle him.  "It was not I that was so keen on this side trip."

"You will note that I have been waiting longer than six weeks," Elrond remarked dryly.

"Ah yes," returned Glorfindel, "although at times six weeks seems like five hundred years to me."

Elrond laughed and punched him playfully in the shoulder as they walked to rejoin their hosts.

           ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

Torches were being lit throughout the garden as Elrond and Glorfindel approached.  They found there a table; laid with such an array of viands, their knees grew weak at the sight. 

"The second matter on the list," murmured Glorfindel.

Elrond could not help contemplating Glorfindel's third priority as his eyes fell upon Celebrían.  Celeborn turned to address them.  "Welcome, Lords of Imladris, to my table, now that you are refreshed.  Did you find your baths enjoyable?"

"Indeed yes," said Glorfindel seriously. 

Elrond covered his twitching lips with his hand.  "Just so," he agreed, giving his friend a nudge.

"I hope the servants were able to attend to your needs," added Galadriel.

"I have no complaint in that area," said Glorfindel with great gravity.

Elrond found it necessary to turn away completely for a moment.

"Have you an ailment, Lord?" asked Celebrían with concern.

"Nay, not at all," Elrond reassured her from behind his hand.  He brought himself under control with supreme effort.

"Please, sit and eat," Celeborn directed, a request that was obeyed without delay.  No others were present and the gathering was most comfortable and family-like.  There was silence for a long while as the guests enthusiastically replenished stores quite depleted by their lengthy journey. 

Elrond finally slowed with a small groan and an apology.  "I fear I am unable to do this feast the justice it deserves.  Eating is an activity that apparently requires constant practice."

Celeborn touched a napkin to smiling lips.  "If you are quite sated, perhaps you will commence on a new activity, my Lord Herald."

Elrond smiled and acquiesced.  He cleared his throat.  "In the half millennia or so that has passed since the war in Eriador, relations between the Eldar and the Edain have become increasingly stressful.  During these years many more settlements of Númenóreans have appeared on western shores.  Aggressive is their demeanor with small love for the Eldar or the men of Middle-earth.

"My directive has been to ascertain the direction these outposts have been taking, in preparation for the inevitable war with Sauron." He paused and peeled an apple, slicing it.  

"Your conclusions?" Celeborn asked.  Glorfindel grunted, a murderous look on his face.  

Celeborn raised his eyebrows in surprise.  "It was that bad?"  

"Indeed," replied Elrond.  "Worse than bad.  We were not even allowed into Umbar."  He fell silent, chewing his apple thoughtfully.

Galadriel eyed him with a penetrating gaze.  "There are more than the problems of mortal men troubling you, I perceive." 

"You see clearly," answered Elrond.  "I suffer more apprehension from the shadows of men than the living."

"Nine shadows in particular?" she asked knowingly.

Elrond looked up, startled and his eyes locked with hers.  "Of course," he murmured.  "Nine for the race of men, why did I not see it?"

Celeborn directed his gaze back and forth.  "To what are you referring?"

Elrond glanced at Celeborn, then across the table to Celebrían for a moment.  She noted the look they exchanged.  "You wish me to leave?" she asked, disappointed. 

Elrond shifted uncomfortably.  "I would not distress you with these tidings, Lady."

She turned to her father.  "I wish to stay, Ada."  Celeborn regarded her for a moment and nodded his assent.

Elrond faced him and continued.  "We were attacked at Ithilien.  Five of our company were lost there.  The enemy was not orcs or trolls or any known evil.  They were wraiths, demons such as I have never seen before and indeed, their number may have been nine." 

"A new enemy," Celeborn said thoughtfully. "Should we worry also for the seven?"

"Seven dwarf wraiths running about as well?" asked Glorfindel, dismayed.

Elrond smiled grimly.  "A distinct possibility."

"They attacked you," repeated Celeborn.  "Did they also pursue you?"

"We have had no rumor of them," Elrond responded.

Celeborn remained thoughtful.  "Perchance they do not stray far from Mordor."

"They go where the will of their Master takes them," Galadriel said quietly.  "They have no free say; they are controlled by the One, the master ring."

Elrond looked at her in shock, a pained expression on his face. "The One, the eye of Sauron," he whispered.

Galadriel gazed deeply into his mind.  "I perceive you are in need of guidance in this matter.  We will speak of it again later."

The elves at the table were silent for a time, subdued.  Finally Celebrían stood.  "I wish to walk through the gardens.  Will any of you accompany me?"

Everyone at the table tried very hard not to look at Elrond, who thankfully responded quickly.

"I will be happy to escort you, Lady."  He rose and offered her his arm and they set off, not looking back at the other elves that were trying not to look at them.

They walked in silence for a while until Celebrían made a comment.  "You have had a very eventful journey."

"Indeed," responded Elrond.  "There is much unrest in the wild at this time."  They were quiet again for a while.  "Thank you for corresponding with me."

"I enjoyed it as well," Celebrían murmured.

_How enjoyable letter writing is,_ Elrond thought.  How easy it was to be relaxed and charming.  Here in person, it was altogether different.  He felt tongue-tied and awkward, struggling to make conversation, when all he truly wanted to do was take her in his arms and kiss her passionately.

And the wall had returned between them and he cursed it.  He stopped walking abruptly and sat on a convenient bench.  

Celebrían dropped down next to him, concerned.  "Elrond, what is troubling you?"

He looked up and their eyes locked together.  Before either one was aware of it, they were in each another's arms, their lips connected in a gentle embrace, tasting, softly exploring.

Elrond's blood beneath his skin leapt into flames immediately.  Life on Arda paused as their passion surged and the kiss deepened, once timid, and now heated.  Elrond's hands increased the measure of physical contact as he lightly caressed her ears, throat and shoulders.  "Ah, Celebrían," he murmured, his lips trailing across her neck.

She stiffened suddenly and pulled back from him.  "I cannot do this." 

He froze.  "I am sorry," he whispered, releasing her.  "I am so sorry, please forgive my actions."  His eyes were wide with anguish.  "Please, this was not the proper way to do this; I must go to your father . . ."

"No!" she said loudly, standing and turning from him.  "That you must not do."

"Celebrían." He stood and placed his hands on her shoulders.  "I wish to marry you, will you not have me?"

Celebrían promptly burst into tears.  "Oh, Elrond," she managed to choke out.  "I cannot marry you, not now, not ever."  And with that remarkable statement, she fled into the darkness.

Elrond stared after her in open-mouthed astonishment.  He sank down to the bench once more, unable to think clearly, totally nonplused and somewhat dismayed.  He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a small box.  He opened it and contemplated the contents.  The two silver betrothal rings seemed to return his stare in melancholy silence.  It was some time before he realized that someone was standing behind him.

"It would be helpful to take the rings out of the box and place them on the appropriate fingers," said a voice to Elrond's back.

Elrond made no acknowledgment.  

Celeborn came around the bench and sat next to him. "You could not summon enough nerve, I take it?" 

Elrond did not look at him, still staring at the box he held in his hand.  "I asked," he said quietly, "and she refused me."

Celeborn was speechless for a moment.  "She what?  She refused you?  That is insane, it is obvious to everyone she is enamored of you."

"I felt that as well," Elrond said, his voice devoid of emotion.  He continued to gaze at the small box.

"Do not fret," said Celeborn with reassurance.  "I will speak with her."

Elrond finally looked up.  "Nay, do not.  I am sure she has justification for her actions, I would not see her coerced." 

Celeborn raised his eyebrows.  "I will merely be the voice of reason, I assure you."

Elrond shook his head, sighing.

"Have faith," said Celeborn.  "Where is the Elrond I knew on the battlefields of Eregion?  He would not have accepted defeat so easily."

_Perchance he died there_, Elrond thought, despair threatening to sweep over him.  "I am fine; do not trouble yourself over me."

"Ah," said Celeborn, "I have ulterior motives of course."  He winked.  "I wish to have grandchildren some time before the next millennia." 

"Do not hold your breath in anticipation," muttered Elrond dryly. 

                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Glorfindel walked cheerfully back to his room, singing a song under his breath.  He opened the door to his chamber and he struggled to adjust his eyes to the dim light given off by the scented candles.

He smiled as he felt three pairs of hands begin to relieve his body of the clothing it wore._  Ah,_ _yes_, he thought.  _I would not be averse to a nice long stay in Belfalas_.

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: At this time many men were becoming estranged from the elves.  Tolkien did not say whether the men in Umbar were elf-friends or not, at this point.  Because they eventually allied themselves with Sauron near the end of the second age, I am assuming 'not'.


	24. Chapter 34

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**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past  
by: DLR 2002**

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

**Chapter 34**

Celeborn glared at his daughter. "Would you mind telling me what in Arda you are thinking of?" 

Celebrían sat very subdued on the sofa in his study with her mother's arm around her in a comforting manner. Her silence only served to fuel his anger.

Celeborn was nearly beside himself.  "You have received a proposal of marriage from the Vice Regent to the High King, a person that even a blind dwarf can see you are in love with, and you refuse him?"

Galadriel transferred her comforting arm from her daughter to her husband.  "Please," she said, "be calm."

"I merely wish to hear her reasoning," continued Celeborn, "and 'I do not know' carries no weight with me."

Celebrían began to cry, putting her face in her hands as Galadriel returned to her.  "Do not badger the girl, please," she insisted.  "I will speak with her."  She raised her eyebrows meaningfully at Celeborn, who left the room fuming.

Galadriel addressed her daughter.  "Now then, tell me this is not still about that gatekeeper."

"Oh, Nana," Celebrían sobbed into her mother's shoulder.  "I fear I love them both, but I made a promise to Halmír first, I cannot go back on that."

"You know my feelings on that issue," returned her mother.  "You will break that promise at once; it never should have been made."

_If only it were that easy_, thought Celebrían, miserably, wondering how she had ever become mired in such a dilemma.  _Thank Eru, __Ada__ did not know, and Nana did not guess_.

"You will write him and that will be the end of it," continued Galadriel.  "Then you will accept Lord Elrond and have a long, happy marriage." 

"Yes, Nana."  Celebrían wept, easily the most wretched elf on Arda at that moment.

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Glorfindel knocked before he entered Elrond's room.  _After all, one never knew,_ he thought grinning, as he opened the door.  The bed was turned down but not slept in and he raised his eyebrows with a smirk.

He made his way to the breakfast table and became puzzled once again.  Celeborn, Galadriel and Celebrían were all seated and eating.  Glorfindel made his greetings and after a short pause looked around.  "Where is Elrond?"

Celeborn shrugged.  "Asleep still?"  "Nay," said Glorfindel.  "He is not in his chamber; his bed was not slept in."

All eyes turned to Celebrían who blushed.  "Well, you will not find him in my bed."

"More's the pity," muttered Celeborn under his breath.  He raised his voice.  "I saw him in the gardens late last night, perchance he is still there?"

Glorfindel looked at the gloom filled faces seated around the table and became concerned.  "If you will excuse me, I will seek him out."  He rose and took his leave. 

He walked outside and entered the gardens.  It was not long before he came upon Elrond, still seated on the bench, still looking at the rings.

"Mellon-iaur," he said gently.  Elrond looked up at him, startled, apparently woken from an elvish dream.

Glorfindel saw what it was he held and put his hand on his friend's shoulder.  "I presume it did not go well."

"I have been pondering this the entire night," said Elrond, "and still reach no satisfactory answer."

Glorfindel sat next to him.  "Speak to me." 

"It is difficult to explain," said Elrond.  "It was awkward at first, I felt that barrier between us once again, then suddenly we were kissing and nothing else mattered."  He paused, reliving the sensations. 

Glorfindel allowed him his daydream for a few moments.  "And then . . . . ?" 

"Everything changed, she backed away from me, I assumed I had offended her by being too forward and I proposed marriage."  He paused again.

Glorfindel became impatient.  "And . . . ?"  

"She refused me," said Elrond sadly.

Glorfindel sighed and rolled his eyes.  "Do we know why?" 

"Nay," responded Elrond, "we have no clue.  Unless . . ." He thought for a moment. "The lover in Lórinand." 

"Ah yes," said Glorfindel.  "Has she confessed this?"

"Nay, not at all," Elrond admitted.  "I am not even sure he exists, it was just a conclusion I drew from something she said once.  It is the most likely reason, however."

Glorfindel smiled.  "If she is in love with someone else, why is she kissing you?"

"Am I so bad-looking?" Elrond asked, offended.  "You thought I was attractive at one time."

"Well, that was two thousand years ago, things change," said Glorfindel.  "If you are not even going to properly comb your hair anymore, well then . . ."

Elrond sighed.  "I am not really in the mood for jests, forgive me." 

They sat in silence for a few moments.  Elrond twisted a strand of hair around his finger.  "Celeborn said he would speak with her."

Glorfindel nodded. "Apparently he has.  The mood at the breakfast table was quite grim."  

Elrond sighed again.  "I have no wish to cause dissension in their family, perhaps we should simply leave."

"Leave?" asked Glorfindel, dismayed.  "Leave so soon?"

"Indeed," said Elrond.  "What would be the point of staying?"

"Well," said Glorfindel, desperately trying to think of something.  "Staying would give you an advantage over this assumed lover, would it not?"

Elrond was perplexed.  "Tell me?" 

"You are here, he is not," explained Glorfindel.  

"True," agreed Elrond.

"When you were kissing her," continued Glorfindel, "did she return your enthusiasm?"

Elrond reddened slightly. "Indeed, I believe so." 

"Well, you have an easy path then," concluded Glorfindel.  "You merely duplicate the situation."

Elrond was thoughtful. "The kissing aspect?" 

"Naturally," agreed Glorfindel.

"I will make it my first priority," said Elrond solemnly.  

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

How many years had it been since he had last seen the sea?  He thought back.  Well Lindon, certainly, but it had been different, forests right up against the crashing waves, jagged cliffs, abruptly dropping off into rocky surf.  Balar was not the memory he sought either, with its busy ports, ships and cargos. 

He seemed to recall a similar beach to this one, stored well back into the deep recesses of his memory, sandy shores, dunes and grasses, walking through the waves. 

_Sirion._

Elrond smiled and tugged off his boots, leaving them sitting in the sand as he walked on.  The warm grains between his toes gave him an inexplicable feeling of happiness, tied no doubt to those long ago early days, when he was young and innocent and all was still right with the world.

He was surprised at the clarity of his memories, considering that he was but a young elfling when his home was sacked and burned.

_Maglor._

Elrond had scarcely given him a thought all these years.  Saddled with two young, very unhappy little elflings, he had done his best by them, although his best was usually less than adequate.

It most likely would have been much easier for him if he had simply slain them when it became apparent that their kidnapping was not going to redeem the silmaril he and his brother lusted after so greatly.

Elrond sighed and sank to his knees.  He reached out his finger to trace a line through the sand, the doodle taking on a clearer shape as the direction of his thoughts shifted.

A shadow fell across the drawing and a voice asked gently, "Is that meant to be my portrait?"

Elrond looked up startled, into Celebrían's eyes.  "Ai, Lady, you do possess a most silent quality of movement." 

"Nay, not unusually so," she said, a smile dimpling her cheeks.  "You were apparently quite deep in thought." 

"That I was," sighed Elrond.  "Nothing of importance, though, merely shadows of the past."

Celebrían smiled.  "I came out here for quiet thought as well.  The surroundings encourage it."

"Indeed," Elrond remarked, continuing to draw.   

Celebrían began a figure of her own.  He looked over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow.  "I have never professed to be an artist," she apologized, and he chuckled.

There was a long silence as they each worked on their drawings.  Elrond decided the time had come and took a deep breath.  "Celebrían," he began and she turned towards him at the same moment he faced her, both startled by their close proximity.

Their lips seemed to have minds of their own as they quickly joined together, mouths pressing tightly against each other, tongues entwining for a long deep kiss.

She broke away from his embrace, breathing as heavily as he.  She held his eyes for a moment, then rose suddenly, kicked off her shoes and ran up into the dunes.

Elrond sat panting, his blood racing, his heart pounding, only for a minute before he pursued her into the concealment of the grassy hills.  He captured her finally, his arms around her waist, tackling her gently to the soft sand.

"Celebrían," he began again seriously.  

"Nay," she said, "no talk, I have had enough talk, I am deaf with it."  She looked into his eyes.  "Do you love me?"

He traced his finger across her lips.  "With all my heart and soul."  He returned her question.  "Do you love me as well?"

She sighed.  "Eru help me, yes I do."  He was unaware that he had been holding his breath until it escaped him in a big sigh.  Their lips met eagerly once again as their hands explored and caressed lower areas.

Heat engulfed their bodies, heat from the sun and the sand, heat from the fire growing within them.  Clothing came off, piece by piece as the warmth of their passion became unbearable.

His tongue encircled the firm tip of her breast as his hands moved to caress her inner thighs.

Celebrían tensed.  "What are you doing?"

Elrond raised smoldering eyes to hers.  "Have trust and allow this, please."

She relaxed and moved to give him access, arching her back as his fingers became invasive, probing, pushing deeply, stroking her into a frenzy.

"Elrond," she gasped, then shuddered as she moved wildly against his touch.

"Meleth-nîn," he said huskily, his voice shaking, "I seek permission to continue."

"Whatever it may be," she moaned, "just do it, I yearn for it."

He caught his breath and for a moment feared it was all over before it had started, so greatly had her words affected him.  He collected himself and pressing his hips into hers, completed their joining with a smooth movement, gently breaking the barrier he was relieved to find still in place.

Celebrían winced in pain, and then in pleasure as Elrond delved deeply into her, hot and hard, stoking the smoldering embers into white-hot flames.  He held onto her tightly as he passed the point of no return, his climax inducing yet another one in her. 

They gasped together, panting for air as he slowed, his passion spent. He rolled a little to the side and breathed deeply.  She reached out to touch his sand-covered abdomen, her hands traveling lightly over his heated flesh.

Elrond gathered her into his arms once more, sand and all, as a contented sigh escaped his lips.  "Somewhere, in my clothing, there is a box containing two silver rings."

Celebrían fingered the chain he wore around his neck and the sapphire ring it bore.  "What is this one?" 

"Merely an heirloom," he replied.  "It once belonged to a cousin of mine."

"Why do you not wear it on your finger?" 

"Perhaps I will some day," responded Elrond, "when the time is right."

Celebrían snuggled tightly against him, the sand on their skin causing a delightfully erotic friction between them.  A fresh wave of desire passed over Elrond as he tasted the salty grains that clung to her neck.  He picked up a handful from the beach and let it slowly run out over her breasts, the tiny pebbles rolling along the curves and valleys as he watched, fascinated. 

"I could easily lie here until the end of Arda," Elrond said quietly.  "I cannot remember ever having been so happy."

Celebrían answered him with kisses as her hands discovered the unexplored territory of his lithe body.  He sighed with pleasure and closed his eyes.  To her surprise he actually dozed off.  She smiled and laid her head on his chest, relishing the warm sun beating down.

The raucous cry of a seagull awoke him a while later and she stirred in his arms as well.

"This may have been a bad idea after all," he commented, observing their reddened skin.

Celebrían looked sly.  "Perhaps something in the nature of a cooling application?" 

Elrond raised an eyebrow expressively. "What are you suggesting?" 

She gave him a wicked smile.  "Join me and find out," she teased, as she rose and ran back down to the beach.  He set after her once more, grinning.   The water felt like ice on his overheated skin, but welcome, nonetheless.  She broke the surface, pushing her hair back, as she smiled with delight.  Elrond dunked his head, shaking the sand from his hair.  He reached for her and pulled her down into the waves with him.

There seemed to be no end to their kisses as they lay in the shallow water.  They joined together in passion once more as the surf pounded into them, in sympathy with the rhythm of their movements.

The setting sun and the receding tide finally sent them looking for their clothes. Elrond pulled his breeches on and came across the box.

"Celebrían," he whispered. "I have no wish for a public ceremony."  She looked into his eyes and silently held out her hand. His fingers trembled as he placed the ring on her finger and gave her the other. As she placed it on his finger, they kissed warmly, with tenderness.  He took her in his arms and sighed happily, as they watched the descent of Anar into the western horizon.

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Glorfindel snickered.  Elrond glared at him.  "It is not funny."

"Indeed not," said Glorfindel with extreme innocence.

Elrond scowled.  "It is quite painful, in fact, to have to sit in a saddle in this condition." 

"I agree completely," said Glorfindel, "it must be."  There was a pause and he smirked.  "I only wonder how you came to have such a severe sunburn in that area."

Elrond sighed.  _It was going to be a very long ride home_.

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	25. Chapter 35

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**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past  
by: DLR 2002******

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

_The Second Age of Middle-earth, 3431_

_Imladris_

**Chapter 35**

_Belfalas 3150_

_"I thought that you loved me," she whispered, turning away from him, blinking back tears._

_"You know I do," he answered.  "Let there never be any question in your mind about that.  I merely think it would be prudent to wait."_

_"We have waited," she argued, "We have waited nearly a millennium already."_

_He sighed patiently.  "We have been through this; I am away, on the road, more often than not.  You cannot come with me and you would be unhappy alone."_

_She looked at the floor.  "I would not be alone; I would have the company of our children."_

_"That is my point, precisely," he returned.  "I would experience the joy of raising children as well, but I simply cannot be present very often, at this space in time.  You would deny me this?"  She continued to gaze at the floor, unable to meet his eyes._

_"Celebrían."__   He pulled her into his arms.  "The years do not run out for us, we have all eternity stretched out ahead.  I do not ask you to wait forever, merely until this conflict with Sauron comes to a close, it will not be much longer."_

_He placed a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face up towards his.  "Stay with your people for now."  His eyes twinkled.  "You may be assured that many official duties will bring me to Belfalas."_

_She sighed and placed a hand on each side of his face.  "I do not see you in person often enough to be wasting this precious time arguing.  We can argue later, in letters."_

_His eyelids narrowed as he pressed his body tightly against hers.  "You have indeed read my mind, Lady," he murmured, kissing her, as his hands traveled inside her bodice.  He felt her answering hands unbuttoning his breeches, reaching inside with a soft caress . . ._

"Elrond!"

He looked up, startled.  Erestor smiled at him.  "I am sorry to interrupt your thoughts."

"Indeed," said Elrond, annoyed.  "You have most unfortunate timing."

"You would not speak so, if you knew my tidings," continued Erestor.

Elrond raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner and waited.

Erestor became playful.  "Perhaps you would enjoy guessing." 

The question in the Vice Regent's eyebrows transformed rapidly into a scowl.  Erestor was not intimidated; he had the advantage of long friendship with the lord of the house.

"Guess," he repeated, smiling.

Elrond relaxed a little and smiled as well.  "Hmm, tidings, eh?  Let me see, what could it be, guests?" __

"A safe guess," replied Erestor, for indeed, many representatives of the free world, entire armies, in fact, had been converging on Imladris for several months now, per order of the high king.

"Ah, but guests from where?" Erestor asked meaningfully.

Suddenly, Erestor's news became very interesting to Elrond.  "Of what do you speak?" 

Erestor looked smug.  

Elrond became exasperated.  "Enough of games, my patience with you grows thin."

"Calm yourself, they are still many leagues away, we have merely had news by messenger," Erestor replied.

"It would appear that you have a death wish," said Elrond through gritted teeth.

"Do I?  Why do you say so?"   Erestor was enjoying this interchange immensely.  Finally he became slightly leery of the deadly look in the vice regent's eye and relented."Oh very well, an army comes hither from . . ."

"Elrond!" exclaimed Glorfindel, poking his head through the doorway.  "A Host approaches from Belfalas, the word is that your lady is among them."

Erestor sat open-mouthed, his thunder having been abruptly stolen away.  Elrond lifted his lips in a smirk.  "I would thank you for the news, but alas, I have already heard it." He left to change into riding clothes.

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elrond dismounted and found himself pulled into a firm embrace by Celeborn. "A royal escort," smiled the silver-haired Elf-lord.

Elrond snorted.  "I hardly consider myself royalty; let us say rather, a family escort."

"Indeed," coughed Celeborn, "although the little matter of a ceremony remains still." __

Elrond smiled.  "It will happen, have patience."  With that greeting completed, he lifted his eyes, seeking.  

"To your left," Celeborn indicated with a grin.Elrond turned in the direction of his gesture and his knees grew weak.  He held his hand out to help her dismount and she was in his arms and they were kissing passionately before either one of them remembered it was a public place.

Glorfindel cleared his throat with emphasis and the lovers broke apart, turning pink.  Celeborn lifted an eyebrow meaningfully at his daughter's suitor.  "Soon, I promise," said Elrond, quite embarrassed.  

"Perhaps we should proceed to Imladris," suggested Glorfindel, hiding a smile.  _Where you two can find a room_.  

Elrond remounted and looked at his friend sharply.  

Glorfindel rolled his eyes.  _First visions, now mind reading?_  Elrond gave him another dark look as he led the host from Belfalas across the ford and into the secret valley.

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Celebrían looked around herself, awestricken.  "I am amazed at what you have accomplished."

Elrond smiled.  "You have not been here in quite some time."

"True," she admitted, "but still."  Elrond was impressed himself at the power of Vilya, Ring of the Air, which he had been able to wield freely, while Sauron was imprisoned in Númenor those hundred years or so.

Imladris had become the sanctuary, the refuge that he had always hoped it would be; a calm, beautiful oasis in a troubled world.

Celebrían still marveled.  "There is just something about it now, something different, magical, in fact."

Elrond caught Galadriel's eye and they exchanged a knowing glance.  "It is indeed the perfect haven," the elven lady acknowledged.  "You are to be commended."

Elrond bowed in recognition.  "Come; let me show you a project of mine."  He escorted his guests through the maze of hallways.  He stopped before a large archway, leading into an even larger chamber.

"There are doors being carved for this entrance," Elrond commented.  "Perhaps in forty of fifty years they may be completed."  He led them into a great expanse. 

"I propose to create here a memorial to the past and present Elven kingdoms of Middle-earth.  As you can see, I possess some standards and artifacts from Gondolin and Doriath, passed down to me by survivors of those realms.  I would have it be known that I would be the keeper of all such relics, from all kingdoms, displayed here for any that wish to view them."

Elrond fell silent while Galadriel inspected a nearby statue.  "Fingolfin?" she guessed.  "Indeed," replied Elrond.  

"I could sketch Finarfin for you," she offered, "and perhaps others as well."

Elrond was gracious.  "Thank-you Cousin, that would be a most welcome contribution."

"To a most worthy project."  She smiled.  "You as well, Husband, there are many sketches you could contribute."

"Indeed," said Celeborn, nodding.  "Thingol, Beren and Lúthien perhaps."

"All would be much appreciated," said Elrond.  "As you can see, I have a great deal of space to fill."

"I may have some moldy old flags lying about as well," said Celeborn.  "You should ask Gil-galad when he arrives; he must have many such articles."

Elrond stiffened and his lips tightened.  "No doubt," he agreed, and then grew silent.  Galadriel looked at him keenly and Elrond shifted his position uncomfortably.  He wondered how much of his mind she was able to discern and he bit his lip recalling the clarity with which she had perceived the distress he felt after using his ring against the wraiths of Sauron years ago.

Elrond shook off his apprehensions.  "I have bored you long enough; make yourselves free of the house and grounds."  He immediately became reflective, his thoughts turning inward, his eyes open, but unseeing.

Celeborn and Galadriel moved off to seek other entertainments, but Celebrían remained, gazing at him, worried.  "Meleth-nîn," she said quietly, and he was startled out of his thoughts.

"Ah, Lady," he breathed as he took her in his arms.  "It has been too long."

"I keep telling you this, do I not?" Her voice was muffled in the folds of his clothing.

"You know that I agree with you," he said.  "It is the circumstances which are not complying." 

"Should we not, perhaps, seek more private quarters?"  Celebrían asked, a short time later.

Elrond looked up briefly from his ministrations.  "This is not a very well-trodden venue.  It is quite shadowy and I think perchance we will go unnoticed."  He looked up at the image of Fingolfin, his grandsire twice removed.  "Unnoticed by living eyes, at least," he murmured to the statue with a wink.

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She saw him standing on the far side of the Hall of Fire a split second before he saw her.  She turned to flee, but he was at her side in an instant.  She winced as he grabbed her roughly by the forearm.  "Celebrían!" he said, with anger and amazement both.

"Let go of me, Halmír," she whispered.  "This is a public room, people will see us."

Her assailant looked about briefly, and then led her into a side chamber.  "I do not know why I am surprised to see you here, I should have expected it."

"Well I am certainly surprised to see you; I was unaware that a host from Lórinand had arrived.  How long have you been here?"* She struggled, finally breaking free of his grasp.

He looked at her angrily.  "Long enough to hear many a rumor of you and your new lover.  Just what do you think you are doing?"

 "I should think that would be obvious," said Celebrían.  "I am marrying Lord Elrond."

"Yes, so you have said in your letters," Halmír responded, "but you cannot, we have a promise."

She looked down.  "A promise my parents will not allow me to honor."

"What say have they?" he asked, glaring at her.

She still could not meet his eyes.  "They have every right. They are my parents and I respect their wishes."

"Where was this respect when you committed yourself to me?" 

"I thought they would accept us, I was in error."

Halmír was astounded.  "You expect me to simply forget that it ever happened?"

 "That is my intention," Celebrían said firmly.  "I have forgotten it already."

He stared at her, speechless.  At last he shook his head.  "May Elbereth forgive you, though I am not certain I can."

"I have no need of your forgiveness, only of your silence."

He looked at her for a long moment.  "I hope you are aware of the depth of this hole you are digging."

She returned his gaze.  "I have made my choice."

His face was grim.  "Which you will most likely live to regret."

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

* The army from Lothlórien did not join the Last Alliance until the troops traveled southward, towards Mordor, but I needed them here now. ;)

Tolkien does not say any thing about the elves of Belfalas, but we certainly can't leave them out.


	26. Chapter 36

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**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past  
by: DLR 2002**

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

**Chapter 36**

Gil-galad paused and glanced around the table.  He sighed.  "I may not be the most powerful speaker in Middle-earth, but usually people at least feign interest."

Elendil was offended.  "I was attending, I assure you.  Pray, continue, please."

The high king turned to face his vice regent, his eyebrows raised.  

"So speak, then," said Elrond rudely.  "Who is stopping you?"  

Elendil exchanged a look with his son Isildur. 

It was several seconds before Gil-galad could tear his eyes away from the dark glare in Elrond's.  "Perhaps we should adjourn this private council until tomorrow when we are less weary of talk."  The others grunted their approval as the chairs scraped back.

Elendil lingered behind.  "I do not mean to pry, but I will presume upon our friendship just a little.  I refer to my kinsman twenty five times or so removed.  His words to you border on insolence, more often than not, yet you say nothing, you tolerate this behavior, why?"

Gil-galad sighed.  "Friendship not withstanding, I cannot go into this with you, I am sorry.  Let me only say that Elrond has just cause for his anger.  For this reason he is free to speak his mind, disrespectful or not and I have no right to chastise him.  I gave up that privilege long ago."

Elendil regarded his friend thoughtfully.  "I perceive this is a private matter between the two of you, I will speak of it no more."  He paused.  "I cannot help but wonder if it will hinder our efforts against the Enemy."

The high king shook his head.  "Elrond and I may have our conflicts, but I have no doubt as to where his loyalties lie.  His first priority is defense of the kingdom, I assure you."

Elendil seemed satisfied.  "All of our strength will be needed for this endeavor; there is no room for any rifts between us."

"Have no worries on that account," repeated Gil-galad.  "We are united; we are one against the Enemy."

                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elrond had not walked far before he became aware of someone following.  He turned back to see Isildur endeavoring to overtake him.  "May I be of assistance to you?" 

"Nay, not really," Isildur responded.  "Perhaps a few words, that is all."

Elrond paused, waiting and Isildur came right to the point.  "You seem to hate your king and I wish to know why.  Gondor and Arnor will not ally themselves with those who cannot put petty bickering aside at moments such as this."

Elrond stared at him, speechless.  "Forgive my bluntness," Isildur said, "but you and I are in the same position, so to speak, heirs to the king, second in command.  I feel that we should be able to speak freely to each other."

Elrond finally found his voice.  "You have no justification in addressing me in this manner," he began, his teeth clenched.  "Any disagreement between the high king and me is private and will remain so.  I find your judgmental attitude extremely annoying."

There was a pause.  "I most likely deserved that," admitted Isildur graciously.  "But I do not apologize for voicing my concerns, for now you know where I stand."

"Yes," said Elrond evenly.  "You are standing in my house, accepting my hospitality.  I would thank you to remember that."

Isildur held Elrond's eyes for a long moment as they assessed each other.  He then bowed in concession, before he walked away.

_This will not do_, Elrond thought, gazing after him.  _I must maintain more control of my_ _feelings.  There is no place for strife among us, especially of such a personal nature_.  His lips tightened and he walked slowly back to the council chamber.  

Elrond opened the door to find Gil-galad alone in the room, seated at the table going over reports.

The high king looked up as Elrond entered silently and sat across from him.  Gil-galad ceased his perusal of the documents and waited for his vice regent to speak.

Elrond clasped his hands together on the table before him and kept his eyes focused on his fingers.  "I apologize for my behavior.  My attitude has caused dissension between us and our allies, it is inexcusable."

Gil-galad regarded him for a moment.  "Do not ever offer to me apologies for anything you might do, they are unnecessary."  

Elrond looked at him coldly.  "I worry for the alliance, not for you."

"And I will take care of the alliance," said Gil-galad, "in spite of any bad impression you might convey."

"Do not speak to me as if to a spoiled errant child," snapped Elrond.  "Have you heard nothing?  I am informing you there will be no further need, dissension will cease, worry no longer, yet you talk still of making excuses."

Gil-galad held up his hands.  "Calm yourself, I am merely telling you that I will take care of any problems that may come up with our allies, have no more concerns on that account."

Elrond rose and stood motionless, staring at him.  He grasped a bottle of wine from the table and hurled it against the wall, shattering it, the red liquid splattering everywhere, as Gil-galad looked on in shock.  "What on Arda ails you?" he whispered.

"This entire blasted on-going situation!" exclaimed Elrond.  "And the way outsiders perceive it!  I am seen as disrespectful and angry; you are seen as understanding and patient, how terrible that you should have to put up with such abominable behavior from the likes of me!

"Have you any idea," he continued, "what a saint this makes you in the eyes of most people?" 

Gil-galad placed his elbows on the table and calmly folded his fingers together.  "You may voice my transgressions to the world at large, I have no objection."

"Oh, a very nice suggestion," exclaimed Elrond.  "I would appear to be a raving lunatic.  Who would believe the great Gil-galad capable of such loathsome acts?" 

"What would you have me do?" asked the high king quietly.

Elrond closed his eyes and sighed, gripping the back of a chair tightly.  "It is I who must do something.  I must find a way to let go of all the anger I feel towards you.  I have tried, but cannot seem to rise above it."

"Perhaps if you attempted to remember the pleasant times we had together," began Gil-galad.

Elrond stared at him, his eyes wide with disbelief.  "Pleasant?  How in Mandos could you call any of that pleasant?"

"If you cannot recall experiencing any pleasure, then your memory is faulty," responded Gil-galad as Elrond turned red.  "But in truth, I was speaking of later years, when all that was behind us, and we were friends."

"That friendship was based on a lie," said Elrond, scowling.  "The lie that you cared anything for me or my well-being."

"Doubt not that I cared because I did," replied Gil-galad.  "The fault was in my manner of expression."

Elrond was now beyond speech, his mouth hanging open, incredulous.  "You refer to it so calmly," he finally uttered, "as if it were nothing.  Then again, perchance it was nothing to you, you who enjoyed so many others as well." 

Gil-galad regarded his foster son with sad eyes.  "My calmness comes of years of introspection.  Do not forget that I have a nearly two millennia advantage on you.  Trust me, I do not look at it as 'nothing'."

"Trust you." Elrond looked at him with loathing.  "I will spit on your grave before I ever trust you again."  He turned and stalked out of the room, banging the half-open door to the side as he left.

Celebrían cautiously poked her head around the corner that she had barely had enough time to scurry into.  Of course she knew it was rude to listen to a private conversation, but the door ajar and the raised voices of her betrothed and the high king had proved too much of a temptation.

She gazed after Elrond with shocked wide eyes, a sinking feeling in her stomach. _How well, do I really know him, after all?  _

_                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

Elrond winced as he watched a contest between an elf with a scimitar and a straw dummy.  Unfortunately, the straw dummy seemed to have the upper hand.  

Prince Amroth of Lórinand sighed and shook his head.  "We are apparently our own worst enemy."

Glorfindel chuckled.  "Let us hope Sauron does not have an army of straw dummies."

Elrond looked over at Celeborn and arched an eyebrow smiling grimly.  "What happened to the force we once had in Eregion?" 

"I blame the soft life they lead here at Imladris," replied Celeborn with a wink.

Elrond looked over the troops with narrowed eyes.  "A situation that shall cease immediately." 

Glorfindel and Celeborn exchanged a small smile.  "Ever the task-master," the blond elf murmured.  "Some things, at least, never change," agreed Celeborn.

                  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"He speaks the truth, you know," Glorfindel said quietly.  Elrond said nothing as he hugged his knees tightly to his chest.

"He has shown you every consideration," Glorfindel continued, "gone far out of his way for you, led an exemplary life since then."

Elrond plucked a blade of grass from the hillside and studied it thoughtfully.  "It is not enough."

"I agree," responded Glorfindel.  "No punishment Mandos could inflict on him would be ample for me, and I am not the one he injured."  He paused and placed a hand on Elrond's shoulder.  "What is it you want from him?"

Elrond rested his head against his knees for a few moments, and then looked up, sighing.  "I want what you want, to see punishment.  This self-inflicted atonement is inadequate.  I fear my wish will not come to pass, however.  There is no record in lore of anyone being invited to the Halls of Mandos to witness the punishment of another."

He laid his head down once more and reflected.  "The last thing I want is continued remuneration, every good deed he does places him in a more positive light with others. Just once," Elrond declared, "I wish to hear an apology.  He has never voiced to me any regret for his actions, indeed, all I have ever received from him have been excuses, self-defense." 

He closed his eyes tightly.  "Why can he not simply say, "I was wrong, I am sorry," and tell me why he acted as he did.  It torments me, wondering if I did anything to encourage him."  

He shook his head and sighed.  "Nay, I do not need to wonder, for I know that I encouraged, perhaps even fed his desire by my response. It began when I was injured, without sight, only semi-conscious.  He bathed me one time.  I knew not at the time who it was, only that the intimate touch thrilled me to the very core.  I allowed it to happen, I enjoyed it at first."

Elrond looked up.  "Do you recall this time of which I speak?  I am not sure I remember knowing you at that point."

"Yes," whispered Glorfindel, "yes I do, although you do not recollect as clearly as I.  Firstly, I did not live at the palace then."

Elrond frowned.  "Then how could you . . . ?"  He paused, thinking, and his eyes grew wide.  "Stay, a moment . . ."    

"Ah, you can see it now," said Glorfindel with a grim look on his face.  "You had never remembered before that I was one of those who tormented you, your earlier school mates."

Elrond stared at him, speechless.

"I never struck you," continued Glorfindel, "but I was there, part of that group, teasing you.  The high king found out who we were and visited our homes to chastise us.  It seems he was quite taken with me and I received not a punishment, but an invitation to live in the palace as a page.  It grew into something more, later on when you were away at school, but well, you know."

"This is why you treated me with such disdain, early on," Elrond realized.

"Yes," whispered Glorfindel.  "Residual bullying, I suppose."  He sighed.  "I am truly sorry for all of that." 

"Do not fret about it," said Elrond, "it is long past, we were children.  Although there is something else about your behavior, bothering me, nagging at me."

Glorfindel paled slightly and waited.

"All those years," Elrond continued.  "All those long years when I struggled to remember, why did you not help me?  I do not understand how you could keep hiding the truth from me."

Glorfindel took a deep breath.  "I am willing to admit that perhaps that was a mistake on my part.  I honestly did not think I would do you any good by forcing the truth on you.  It seemed better you should remember on your own.  I know you tried desperately to recover that which you had lost, but at the same time, you also seemed terribly afraid it would happen, and the memories would be too awful to endure.  

"Which they were," he added quietly.  "I was quite torn.  You seemed so much better off not knowing, it was as if it never happened.  I had to balance the frustration you felt against the agony you would surely feel when the memories returned.  Also, just my telling you may not have helped you to really remember, it would be as if listening to a story, a fiction.  It apparently took a great shock to break down that barrier."

"Yes," said Elrond sadly.  "The death of Celebrimbor, the would-be protector of my innocence."

"A thought that leads us back to the main issue," remarked Glorfindel.  "The worst thing you can do is blame yourself, you were not much more than a child, he was old enough to be considered an adult.  You were not responsible for his misdeeds."

He grasped Elrond by the shoulders for emphasis.  "Do you hear me?  You cannot condemn yourself for his actions, especially at the age you were.  Do not fault yourself for finding pleasure in his touch, I found that pleasure as well, but my situation was completely different, he never forced me or raped me."

Glorfindel regarded Elrond with a pained expression.  "He did these things to you; I saw it with my own eyes.  Enjoying a caress is one thing, being made to tolerate an unwelcome invasion is another.  There is also such a thing as age of consent.  You were too young to understand, an innocent.  He was not."

Elrond sighed.  "The sad thing was, when I became old enough to comprehend, I did naught to stop it.  I dared not defy him.  He took me in, an orphan, and cared for me, I was beholden to him."

"Yes," agreed Glorfindel.  "I suppose my own situation would have been similar, had he turned his attentions to me immediately.  I was lucky to have been allowed a few years of growth and experience."

He paused and contemplated his friend.  "This is the first time you have ever talked to me about all of this, aside from when we first became close.  You forgot for so long, then after, you were unwilling."

"I find now, that I am able to speak of it without falling into total despair," said Elrond, "which was a problem in the past.  Unfortunately, my conversations with Gil-galad on the subject have been completely unsatisfactory."

Glorfindel consoled him.  "I feel the time is coming, where he will voice his regrets and make his apologies, he has nearly said as much to me.  You have told Celebrían, naturally."  Elrond was silent.  Glorfindel looked at him, incredulous.  "Tell me that you have told Celebrían." 

"There is no need," said Elrond.  "I see no reason to mention it."

Glorfindel was speechless.  He folded his arms across his chest and stared.

Elrond scowled.  "Do not regard me in that manner.  I will tell her, when the time is right."

"Which I am correctly interpreting as 'never'?" 

"Please." Elrond sighed.  "I look for no argument from you today."

"I offer you none," returned Glorfindel.  "I merely wish to impart some advice . . ."

"We keep forgetting I do better not to heed your advice, do we not?" said Elrond with a faint smile.

"This is what you feign," responded Glorfindel.  "Although if the truth be told . . ."

Elrond held up his hands in defeat.  "Enough," he cried, laughing.  His face became serious once again and he gave his friend a quick embrace. "Where would I be without you, Glorfindel, son of Glorfindel?" 

"Better off?" suggested that elf with a mischievous wink.

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The horses' hooves thundered across the dry, dusty plain.  The riders approached their targets, spears extended, bearing down on their hapless prey.

Gil-galad smiled as not a single straw dummy survived the onslaught.  Elendil clapped his friend on the shoulder.  "Well done!" he exclaimed.  "A wonderful demonstration, congratulations!" 

"The troops behaved well," admitted the high king.

"Due entirely to your superior instruction," commented Elrond.

Gil-galad hesitated and looked at his vice regent.  He scanned Elrond's face for signs of insincerity and found none.  "Thank you."

Elrond looked his cousin in the eye.  "You are welcome."

Elendil smiled broadly.  "Now that is more like it!  No fighting in the ranks, all united against a common enemy."

"We should return to Imladris to make final preparations," advised Elrond.  Gil-galad acquiesced.  The company commanders were dispatched with orders and the elvish cavalry along with their human compatriots began their journey back to the hidden valley.

The high king mounted his horse.  "Sometimes it seems as if no amount of preparation will be adequate," he muttered to no one in particular.

Elrond caught the remark as he swung himself into his saddle.  "You have a premonition?" 

Gil-galad looked up, startled that he had spoken aloud.

"You worry for the troops?" prompted Elrond.

"Nay, not at all," said the king, waving his hand, dismissing it.  "Have you had any visions?"

Elrond shook his head.  "Not in recent years.  I have no clue as to what the future may hold." 

"The future," repeated Gil-galad. He was quiet a moment as they rode along.  "Why, suddenly, do I feel there will be no future?"

              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~    


	27. Chapter 37

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past  
by: DLR 2002******

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

_Imladris 3434 _

**Chapter 37**

He loved the taste of her skin.  There was not an inch of it that his mouth had not explored, although he found he had a preference for certain areas more than others.

He was researching one of his favorite indulgences, much to her satisfaction as she squirmed with delight beneath his ministrations.   She convulsed suddenly and shuddered, pushing herself against him, all reason, all intellect, all sane thought subservient to the pleasures of the flesh.

He had the same bearing as she; his quest to soothe the intense ache of unsated desire was the only concern.  He coupled with her abruptly and she welcomed the intrusion, arching her back and lifting her hips to meet his rhythmic movement.

Nothing else existed in the world except the climax of their ardor as they reached a shattering explosion of sensation.  They rode the crest of the wave to its ebb, slowing as passion was spent.

They held each other tightly and breathed together, as their racing hearts struggled for a normal pace.

Elrond gathered her silvery blonde hair in handfuls and brought it up to his face, inhaling its sweet scent.  Celebrían simply sighed, relishing the intimate contact she had missed for so long, that was soon to be taken from her again.

"Elrond," she began, as he nuzzled the soft skin of her neck.  "Please reconsider.  Marriage, a child, before you leave."

He shifted his weight onto his elbows and contemplated her.  "Suppose I die?" he asked gently.

"Then you would have an heir, and I would have a small part of you to cherish," she returned.

He continued to gaze at her.  "Suppose I live and this war does not end for another twenty years?  I come home to a nearly grown child who does not know me, nor I him, tis an unappealing thought.  I know how it feels to grow up with no father, or only poor excuses for one.

"You would suffer little, waiting twenty years, but this child and I would suffer much, being apart, and then facing each other as strangers."  He ran his finger across her lips.  "You truly wish this?"

She sighed, defeated once more.  "Blast it, why must you always be so insufferably logical?"  Elrond smiled and returned to his interrupted activity. 

Celebrían was silent for a few moments then began again.  "Elrond?"  

"Mmm?" he mumbled, his lips being otherwise occupied.  

"How long have you known the high king?"

He froze.  "Most of my life," he answered slowly.  "In excess of three thousand years."  He turned a wary eye on her.  "Why do you ask?"

She gave him an innocent look.  "Well, you just seem to have something of a past with him, I was curious."

Elrond felt his stomach rapidly tying itself into knots.  He became nauseous suddenly.  "He was my guardian, my kinsman."  He forced himself to breathe calmly.  "Then later, my commander.  I am his herald and vice regent."

"Well, yes," she said with impatience.  "This is common knowledge.  It just seems as though there is more to it than that, something hidden beneath the surface."

Elrond swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, pulling on a robe.  "Tis nothing; you are reading too much into it." He avoided her eyes.  "We have merely had a clash of personalities these later years."

"I see," she said, regarding him thoughtfully.  He grew uncomfortable beneath her gaze and moved across the room restlessly. Elrond leaned against the archway and stared into the garden, but it was unlikely that he was admiring the eglantine* climbing the latticed wall.

_Tell her_, a voice pounded in his head and he sighed, knowing he could not bring himself to do it.  Celebrían came quietly up behind him and touched his back, causing him to jump in surprise.  She lifted her hand and retreated back a step.

"Why do you start so?" she asked.  "This is not the first time I have noticed it.  Do you dislike my touch?"

Elrond caught her hand and kissed it.  "Nay, do not harbor such notions.  I merely withdraw into my thoughts and I forget the presence of others."  He paused and looked deeply into her eyes.  "No more questions today, please?"

"Agreed." Celebrían returned his impassioned look.  "What is thy wish, Melethron?"

"That you simply kiss me," he whispered. 

She moved to do his bidding. "Not an unpleasant command at all." 

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Glorfindel passed a linen cloth across his damp, overheated face.  He gratefully accepted the glass of wine Elrond handed to him and made a valiant effort to catch his breath.

Elrond chuckled.  "You are far too much in demand." 

"Indeed," said Glorfindel with a wry smile.

"Your admirers will be the death of you," Elrond added as two elves, a male and a female approached his friend from opposite directions.  They came up before him and halted, hesitating, looking at each other.

The male bowed.  "Precede me, please."  He waved his hand at the female who looked embarrassed. 

"What is your wish?" asked Glorfindel, amused.

She blushed.  "The pleasure of your company for the next dance."

"Granted," agreed Glorfindel.  He turned to the other.  "And yours?"

"The dance following," the young elf murmured.

"Granted as well."  Glorfindel smiled as his future dance partners took their leave.  He sighed happily.  "We really should have these galas more often, you know."  

Elrond smirked.  "I would not wish to be a party to your untimely demise."

"Have no fear on that account," said Glorfindel, reaching for another glass of wine.  "Were I able to choose the manner of my departure from Arda, this activity would be high on the list."

Elrond smiled as he regarded the revelers in the great hall.  _A last big festival to boost morale,_ he thought, watching the gaiety that prevailed.  They should do this more often, on a smaller scale, perhaps.  More singing and less dancing, a relaxing entertainment after the evening meal.

"Where is Celebrían?" asked Glorfindel suddenly, breaking into his thoughts.  "I have not seen her yet this evening."

"Nor have I, in quite some time." Elrond scanned the room.  "She is here, somewhere, be sure to save her a dance."

Glorfindel raised his eyebrows and gave his friend a look.

"You cannot spare one dance for my betrothed?" asked Elrond, incredulous.

"I could," murmured Glorfindel, "but to what advantage?"

Elrond snorted.  "You are incorrigible."  He rose with a smile and moved away. 

Gil-galad, Círdan and Elendil were conversing in an alcove to his right. He paused, greeting them and received some very serious looks in exchange.

"What is it?" Elrond asked.  "New developments?" 

"Indeed," said Gil-galad gravely.  "We cannot afford to tarry any longer, we must move at once."

"At once?" echoed Elrond.  "Dinner has not yet been served."

"Do not fret," said the high king with a small smile.  "We will not march on empty stomachs.  The table of Imladris has acquired a reputation, a feast is not an event to be missed, save in dire emergency."

Elrond relaxed slightly.  "But what tidings?"  

Elendil looked grim.  "Messages from Anárion.  He fears Osgiliath cannot hold out against Sauron much longer and begs us to make haste."

Elrond looked to Gil-galad for his response.  

"We will march at dawn," instructed the high king.  "Spread the word to the commanders."

"Yes, sire," Elrond replied.  He paused for a moment, hesitating.

"You have my consent to apprize your intended of this news first," interpreted Gil-galad correctly.  "And also, my best wishes to you, I fear that I never congratulated you on your betrothal."

Elrond stared at him numbly, unable to speak.  He finally shook his head.  "Nay, you did not."

  


"I have indeed been remiss," said Gil-galad.  "Allow me to correct that omission.  It gives me great joy to see you find happiness at last, you have long deserved it."

Elrond continued to stare at him for a long moment, beyond words.

The high king smiled. "Well, be off with you then."

His vice regent finally closed his open mouth and departed in search of Celebrían.

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elrond paused, squinting as something in the distance caught his eye.  _Celebrían?__  Who was that with her, holding her hand?  _He began to walk quickly forward as the couple disappeared around a bend.

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Just for one moment, that is all I ask," he pleaded.

Celebrían shook her head.  "No, Halmír, please."

He caught her by the hand and drew her onto a secluded balcony.  "You will deny your feelings for me?" 

Celebrían sighed and held her fingertips to his cheek.  "You must accept my decision." 

"Nay, never," he whispered huskily as he captured her lips in a passionate kiss.   

Celebrían broke away from him.  "No Halmír, cease, at once."

"Your actions do not mirror your words." He kissed her once again.  She freed her lips from his and turned to see Elrond in the doorway, staring at them.  They all stood stunned for a moment as nobody breathed.  The pain in his eyes was nearly more than she could bear as he turned abruptly and stalked away.

"Celebrían," exclaimed Halmír, reaching for her.

She paused to face him angrily.  "Leave me be, do not approach me again."  

His eyes reflected an expression similar to Elrond's as he watched her hurry away.

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Celebrían lifted her skirts and ran.  Elrond had left the house and she followed him into the garden.  Celebrían managed to outpace him and stood blocking his path.  "Stop, please, I can explain this."

He waited in silence, unable to even look at her.

"What do you think was happening there?" she demanded.

Elrond looked up, amazed.  "Was it not obvious?"

"Nay," she said, "it was not.  It certainly was not what you are thinking."

He stared at her.  "So tell me.  Explain yourself."

Celebrían passed a hand over her face and took a deep breath.  "That was Halmír of Lórinand.  He and I had an understanding at one time."   

"Ah yes," said Elrond, comprehending.  "You alluded to him once or twice in the past in a vague sort of manner, and I wondered."  He looked at her with anguish.  "This does not explain why you were kissing him now."

"Oh, but I was not," she said.  "He was kissing me, there is a difference.  He is unwilling to accept my decision to marry you."

"It certainly looked like you were kissing him," argued Elrond, unconvinced.

Celebrían sighed.  "Well perhaps I was, just a little.  I had kissed him in the past, long ago; possibly I was reliving some old memories for an instant.  

"But be gladdened in heart, not dismayed, for I have proved to myself that my love for you is far greater than the feeling I held for him of old." 

She paused and her arms encircled his neck.  "I would prove it to you as well, if you would allow it," she whispered hotly into his ear.

All jealous thoughts left him instantly and Elrond melted into her arms, a slave to his passion for her.  "Indeed," he murmured, "prove it to me, please."

There was a long silence as she complied with his request, her lips burning against his, their tongues conducting an intimate dance as the lovers caressed each other with escalating excitement.

Celebrían stayed his hand in protest. "We are in a public place." 

"I care not," said Elrond, as he unlaced and opened her bodice.

"Elrond, please," she said, panting.   "You would care if my father walked around the corner."

"Very well," he whispered.  "Come with me," as he grabbed her hand and led her outside the gardens.  They scaled a stone wall and followed a narrow path into the deepening forest.

Elrond pushed aside a low-hanging branch to reveal a sheltered glade and a small, rushing waterfall glistening in the bright starlight.  Celebrían was speechless, awestruck by its idyllic beauty.  Elrond ignored his surroundings, having eyes only for his companion as he gently relieved her of her clothing.

He sighed deeply in his chest as she stood revealed to him, appreciating her loveliness with his hands as well as his eyes.  His own garments began to feel cumbersome and restricting and her nimble fingers worked quickly, discarding one piece after another.

They seemed to glimmer in the starlight as they held each other close, relishing the sensation of bare flesh pressed tightly together.  He pulled back slightly and stared at her with eyes that smoldered with the promise of fiery passion as her hands moved to caress his hot flesh, evoking a hoarse moan from his throat.  His hands were at the sides of her head, his fingers lightly tracing the curves of her ears as he pushed his need against the pressure she offered him and his lips found hers once again.  They drank deeply of each other as if from a fountain of never-ending sensual delights, the intimate merging of their mouths leaving them hungry and breathless with desire.    

Elrond stepped back and panted as her deft ministrations threatened to send him quickly past the point of no return. He smiled mischievously as he caught her hand and pulled her towards the waterfall.  Celebrían eyed it dubiously.  "Is it cold?"

"Nay, not in this season," he responded, as she reluctantly followed him.

They both gasped as the water cascaded onto them.  It was not cold, no, but neither was there much warmth.  Elrond grinned widely as Celebrían pushed her wet hair back from her face.  "My love," he whispered as his fingers aided hers.

The cool water, running down his body in rivulets, did nothing to dampen his ardor.  Catching her around the waist, he lifted her until she was seated on a smooth stone ledge. Kneeling before her, he caressed her with dexterous tongue and fingers, the former swirling over the source of her pleasure, the latter pushing deeply inside, stroking her into readiness.

He brought his teeth and lips into play, driving her mad with unsated desire.  Her breath came in quick gasps as she shuddered and moved wildly, moaning his name deep in her throat. 

Elrond guided her thighs apart as he pushed his hips intimately between them, completing the age-old ritual of love.

Celebrían's arms encircled his head as he commenced his conjugal movement, each hard push drawing a gasp from her as his heat touched her inner core.  She ran her fingers through his long black hair, his own fingers finding occupation at the site of their joining, stimulating her into insanity once more.

Elrond threw his head back with joy at the culmination of their passion.  He rested damply in her arms, receiving with delight the cool rain of the waterfall on his heated skin.  "Ai, Celebrían," he murmured, holding her close.  "I thank thee for this; it will sustain me for some time, should it come to that."

She looked into his face for a moment, studying it.  "Tell me," she said simply.

"We march at dawn," admitted Elrond.  "I have tarried here too long already, many duties call me."

Her blue eyes held his grey ones for a long moment.  "Nîn hûn gwanna an le,"* she whispered.

"Im gerin ha band,"* he replied.  

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   

Halmír gripped the balcony railing tightly as he observed the scene playing out in the garden beneath him.  Argument and confrontation, then explanations, forgiveness and kisses.  He could well imagine what was said.

_This is not right_, he thought, as he watched them disappear into the woods.  _She made a promise to me, a vow.  _He clenched his teeth while his hands tightened on the railing.

One does not invoke the name of Elbereth lightly.

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*A sweet smelling wild rose 

*My heart departs with thee

*I hold it safe


	28. Chapter 38

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**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past  
by: DLR 2002******

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

_The Plain of Dagorlad_

_S.A.3434_

**Chapter 38**

Erestor opened his eyes then closed them again with haste, the dim light causing a jolt of pain through his already pounding head.  He moaned.

"Be still," cautioned Elrond.  Another stab of pain.

"Ai, what is it?" Erestor whispered.  "What are you doing?"

"Stitching," replied Elrond, calmly.  "You have a nasty head wound."

"Anesthetic?" Erestor requested hopefully.

"Unnecessary," replied Elrond.  "I am nearly finished."

"Unnecessary for you, maybe," grumbled Erestor, wincing.

"There now," said Elrond, "a bandage and you are taken care of."  

Erestor raised a tentative hand to his head.  His eyes widened in shock.  "You have cut off my hair."

"Aye, some of it," replied Elrond.  "It was necessary to expose the wound."

"Some of it?" repeated Erestor, aghast.  "The entire side of my head!"

"Calm yourself, it is only hair, it will grow back."  Elrond became serious.  "Look at the others, be thankful you did not lose a limb."

Erestor took heed of his surroundings suddenly as Elrond spoke.  Wounded lay around him on all sides, the conscious moaning in pain, the unconscious succumbing to a slow quiet death. 

"I am sorry," he whispered, subdued.

Elrond gripped his shoulder.  "Ah, do not fret; you are entitled to a small amount of crankiness.  I am thankful your injury was not more serious.  Sleep now, I will look in on you later." Erestor closed his eyes as Elrond stood, moving on to the next patient.

And so it went on through the night, the battle on the field over with, a victory by all accounts; the battle in the hospitals for the lives of the combatants only just beginning.

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Glorfindel looked around furtively.  "You are most likely not allowed this." He slipped Erestor a flask.  

"You are most likely correct." Erestor accepted it gratefully, with a wide smile. 

Glorfindel eyed him critically.  "You are apparently also in need of a hood."

Erestor sighed, closing his eyes.  "Pray, do not remind me."

Glorfindel smirked, still scanning the tent.  "Where is Elrond?"

"He is here somewhere," replied Erestor.  "He is always here."

Glorfindel sighed.  "I do not doubt you."  He took his leave of Erestor and went in search of his friend, who he finally found in a make-shift kitchen, cooking remedies.  He stood in the doorway and contemplated him for a moment.  Elves by nature have a lengthy level of endurance, but if ever an elf could be described as dead on his feet, it was Elrond.

Glorfindel spied Aranwë and crossing over to him, exchanged quick pleasantries.  He came to the point at once.  "I worry for Elrond, he drives himself to excess."

"Aye," agreed Aranwë, "but my old student is now my master and he listens to me not."

Glorfindel laid a hand on the healer's arm.  "Your old student has become the most stubborn elf on Arda.  He has respect for you, make no mistake about that."

Aranwë returned Glorfindel's smile.  "You assess him correctly, stubborn he is, and also, as you say, driven beyond normal limits."

"Perchance I can provide a remedy for that." Glorfindel considered.  "Can you spare him?"

"He should rest, whether he can be spared or not," replied Aranwë.

"An endeavor I shall undertake with haste," promised Glorfindel as he moved to do so.  He approached Elrond rapidly with decision and his friend looked up from his kettle.

"I must see you outside at once," said Glorfindel.  "It is urgent."

"Certainly," replied Elrond, wiping the pungent mixture from his hands with a rag.  He followed Glorfindel out of the tent and down the road apace until they came to a large rock, suitable for sitting.  Glorfindel did so, immediately.

"What is it?" asked Elrond seriously.

"Simply this." Glorfindel pulled a flask from his pocket.  "You must drink this, it is imperative that you do so."

Elrond was mystified.  "Whatever for?" 

Glorfindel frowned.  "Orders from the high king.  All who overtax themselves will be required to fall into a drunken stupor immediately."

The expressions on Elrond's face went through a succession of rapid changes.  Confusion, incredulity, irritation, and then laughter.  He sat down on the rock chuckling as he accepted the flask gratefully, taking a drink, and then offering it back to its owner.

"Nay, keep it," said Glorfindel.  "I am quite well prepared."  He patted his pockets and produced yet another flask.  Elrond leaned back against the rock and sighed.  He drank deeply, and then closed his eyes.  Glorfindel took a long drink as well and settled back.  There was a lengthy silence.  "When is the funeral rite for Oropher?" 

"Tomorrow," Elrond replied.  "I feel greatly for Thranduil, it should never have happened."

"One of the many senseless tragedies of war," Glorfindel agreed.  "Has his body been found?"

"Nay." Elrond shook his head.  "It seems the marshes will be the grave site for him as well as many others."  He hesitated a moment, reflecting.  "I was one of the searchers, a grim task to be sure." He closed his eyes and shuddered.  "The strange thing is that we found no bodies, none at all, as if the fens had swallowed them completely.  They did not journey to Mandos, I could feel them there still, catch glimpses of them as well, their feär* locked somehow into the murky depths."

There was a pause again as they drank.  Glorfindel glanced over at him. "We have many wounded?"

"Nay, not excessively so," replied Elrond.

Glorfindel nodded and began again.  "We have a shortage of healers?"  

"Nay," said Elrond as he opened his eyes and turned to contemplate his friend.  "I take it there is a point to these questions?"

"You are driving yourself to the very limits of your endurance without need," responded Glorfindel.  "Why?"

"Is it at all possible for me to conduct my life without having my every move examined?"  Elrond asked petulantly.  Glorfindel was silent, waiting for the irritation to pass.

Elrond sighed and closed his eyes.  "Gil-galad is not the only one who needs to atone for his misdeeds."

Glorfindel reflected on this for a moment.  "You refer to Lindórië?"

"I do," said Elrond quietly.  "Somehow, it seems that every hurt I heal now, lessens that which I inflicted back then."

"You cannot compare your actions to Gil-galad's," began Glorfindel.

"I do not," Elrond responded, "for mine were far worse."

Glorfindel turned and stared at him, speechless for a moment.  "How can you say that?  He was old enough to bear responsibility, you were not."

Elrond shook his head.  "Society would not agree with you, I deem.  I defiled an underage female, a virgin.  Such an act is unspeakable."  He paused and considered.  "I had the influence of the high king, so there were no repercussions.  What would have happened to me if I had not?"

Glorfindel closed his eyes.  "You would have been banished into the wilderness, Beleriand, possibly."

"More than likely," Elrond agreed.  "Suppose Gil-galad's actions became public, long ago, what would have happened to him?"

"We are assuming him to be an average individual and not the king?" Glorfindel asked and Elrond nodded.  He thought for a moment and shrugged.  "Some disdainful looks perhaps, but most likely nothing."

"Exactly," Elrond agreed.  "So there you are."

"You acted once, on impulse, with ignorance, he acted many times, fully aware of the wrong he was inflicting," argued Glorfindel.

"But you cannot deny that I am correct."

"I can say it is unfair."

"How so?" said Elrond.  "My actions might have ruined her life.  One cannot say the same for Gil-galad's wrongdoings."

Glorfindel sighed.  "Elrond, did Lindórië forgive you?"

"Well no, not in so many words," he considered. "But I do feel she harbored no ill-will, finally."

"And what is your feeling towards Gil-galad," continued Glorfindel.  "Would you say there was ill-will?"

"You know the answer to that," said Elrond darkly.

"Well does that not tell you something?" asked Glorfindel.  "Morally, he has more to atone for than you; the judgment of society does not reflect the situation correctly."

Elrond sighed.  "Mellon-iaur, there is only one question in my mind at this moment."

Glorfindel raised his eyebrows, waiting.

Elrond held out the flask.  "Have you any more of this?"

The blond elf stared at him for a moment then chuckled.  "I will find more."

"Then I shall seek you out shortly," replied Elrond. 

"I pray you will make good use of your time while I am gone," began Glorfindel.

Elrond paused. "You have a suggestion?" 

"Indeed," said Glorfindel, wrinkling his nose.  "Some attention to personal hygiene, perhaps?"

"I am drinking with you, not courting you," scowled Elrond.  "Now be off with yourself and make haste."

Glorfindel chuckled as Elrond threw the flask at his rapidly retreating figure.

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Foothills of Mt. Orodruin

S.A.  3437

Elrond looked at his plate with distaste.  "I do believe I will forgo eating for the duration of this endeavor."

"Perhaps that is an option for the Eldar," commented Isildur with sarcasm in his voice.  "We mere mortals must appreciate whatever food is offered, we have not the choice to be picky."

Elrond turned his attention away from the plate before him to the man sitting across the table.  He made no reply, but his lips tightened as he wondered, not for the first time, why Isildur seemed determined to provoke a quarrel with him.  He glanced at Elendil, who seemed unusually preoccupied with his dinner.  Gil-galad did not meet his eyes, but there was the slightest note of warning in the nearly indiscernible lift of his eyebrows.

Elrond sighed and took the high road.  "Alas, even for the Eldar, that option lies only in jest."  He forced himself to eat the repulsive-looking concoction.

"We have been here but three years," observed Gil-galad.  "I am sure the victualing difficulties will only increase as time goes by, especially should the enemy find a way to harass our supply lines."

"You cheer me greatly," commented Elrond with dry humor.

"Facing facts is not always pleasant," said the high king, a small smile crossing his lips.

"And if our supply lines are severed?" asked Isildur.  "Then what?"

Gil-galad turned to him. "Do you see nourishment of any kind in abundance on this harsh terrain?" 

"You know there is none," replied Isildur.

"Then our options are retreat and replenish, or continue the siege and starve." 

"By the same token, they will run low on food eventually, as long as we besiege the tower," concluded Isildur.

Elrond coughed and Celeborn shifted uncomfortably. 

"What is it?" Isildur was puzzled.

Elrond and Celeborn exchanged glances, both remembering Eregion.

"They will find something to eat," Elrond said, cryptically. 

Elendil looked at their somber faces.  "I do not follow you."

"They will send out secret patrols," explained Celeborn.  "They will capture and eat us."

"Failing that, they will eat each other," added Elrond quietly.

There was a long silence disturbed only by the sound of Glorfindel pushing his food around on his plate in a distracted manner.  "On the one hand, I feel very grateful to have this bean-like substance for nourishment."  He mixed it back and forth a while more.  "On the other hand, I appear to have totally lost my appetite."

He rose and looked at Elrond.  "I cannot explain it, but I have a distinct desire to hear you sing at the fire tonight."

Elrond regarded him with amusement.  "You equate my singing with rancid food?"

"Indeed no," laughed Celeborn, "and I second that motion."

"Ah, then, how could I possibly refuse my hervess-adar?"* smiled Elrond.  He rose from the table as well and touched Glorfindel's elbow.  "I think perhaps I will require payment in advance."

"That will not pose a problem," returned Glorfindel, doing a quick mental inventory of his secret stashes.  "Will it be a one or two flask evening?"

Elrond chuckled.  "Bring enough to share a little; we want the audience to be in a receptive frame of mind."

"Hmm," teased Glorfindel.  "I doubt there are enough spirits in Mordor to achieve that."

Elrond arched an eyebrow.  "Ah, so now you say one must be stone drunk so as not to be offended by my singing?" 

Glorfindel looked at him and sighed heavily.  "Am I going to regret making this request?"

"That is a distinct possibility," said Elrond with a smug smile.

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He bowed to enthusiastic applause, very pleased, the color high on his cheeks.

"One more!" exclaimed Elendil as Elrond moved to retire.   The vice regent raised an eloquent eyebrow to Glorfindel who silently handed him a flask.  He acquiesced after a long drink. "What subject suits you?"  There was a pause as the group surrounding the fire pondered his question.

"Eärendil," requested Isildur suddenly.  "I wish to hear about our common ancestor."

Elrond automatically looked skywards, but the stars were obscured as they always were, by the smoke and stench of Mordor.  "Pardon me for a moment while I recall a lay I wrote many years back."  He closed his eyes in thought.  He took a last draught from the flask, and handing it back to Glorfindel, began to sing with his clear pleasant voice.

_Of Eärendil the Mariner, Tuor's mighty son,   
That blessed star, high in the sky, which guides all safely on.   
  
Home at the shores of Sirion, those people's Lord was he,   
But purposes within his heart, they called him to the sea.  
  
Thus with Círdan, he built a ship, with oars of gold and white,  
And this he took out on the sea, and sailed through day and night.  
  
Though search he did, the Blessed Realm, find it he did not,  
So homeward bound was set the helm, of argent Vingilot.   
  
When he returned to Sirion, he stayed there for a while,  
Until again he sailed for sea to search the Blessed Isle.  
  
In wrath then came Fëanorians, who'd sworn that luckless oath,  
And brought war to Arvenien, with burning, broken troth;  
  
Then Elwing, from her fastness dim, did step in waters wide,  
But like a bird was swiftly borne, uplifted o'er the tide.  
  
And from the air unto the decks of Vingilot she fell,  
Next Eärendil turned to the West, where didst the Valar dwell.   
  
Their anchor cast in Eldamar, it was never again,  
That either Elwing or Eärendil set foot on lands of Men.  
  
From Valinor a host set forth into the Hither Lands,_

_To bring both Morgoth and his reign to their deservéd ends.__   
  
Seeing his host there overthrown, Morgoth hid away,  
Issuing Balrogs from deep vaults, in fiery array.  
  
Leading the battle in the air, in Vingilot up high,  
Eärendil slew Ancalagon, and cast him from the sky.   
  
So Eärendil, victorious, went on to sail the skies  
To light the way, and strengthen hearts, in his starlit guise.*  
  
_

He finished with his eyes upon Círdan.  "You have captured him well, Tercáno," responded the shipwright, "I applaud you."

Elrond smiled broadly and turned to invite comments from Celeborn.  "Well done, indeed, I especially enjoyed the part about Ancalagon."

"That is high praise, coming from you who knew him, I thank you," Elrond remarked, avoiding Gil-galad's eyes.  "I wish my own memories were clearer.  Tis a father's duty," he said quietly, more to himself, "to know his children and give them knowledge of himself and his past." 

Gil-galad's gaze lingered on Elrond as he reflected on the burden of pain the younger elf still carried inside, and would most likely continue to carry, all of his life.  _It is not entirely my fault.  Much of this anguish can be laid at Eärendil's feet._

The high king was startled out of his reverie by a sudden quick galloping of hooves, bearing down on them.  The people around the campfire rose quickly as the unexpected riders reined in their horses.

"Heavy skirmishing in the eastern foothills, Sire!"  yelled a horseman to Elendil as the king of Arnor buckled on his sword._  "My horse!" he exclaimed.  "Bring me my horse!"_

Chaos erupted as elves and men frantically located their mounts and weapons.

Elrond put two fingers to his lips, letting out a shrill but distinctive whistle.  His horse appeared out of the gloom, saddled for warfare as he was every night, always on alert.  He gave Elrond a quick nuzzle to the ear as his master lifted himself into the saddle.

"To me, Eldalië!" shouted Gil-galad as his horse danced skittishly.  With a pull to the rein, the allies turned as one, riding to face the menace in the east.

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

*Souls

*Father-in-law, or literally wife-father.

* A Lay of Eärendil  
A heroic poem, largely nicked from J.R.R. Tolkien and tweaked by **Nemis**  
Arvenien: coastlands of Beleriand, north of the Bay of Balar  
Eldamar: Elvenhome, the lands of the Elves in Aman, lying to the east of the Pelóri mountains  
Heavy usage of HoMe 7: _The Treason of Isengard, Bilbo's Song at Rivendell, and __The Silmarillion_


	29. Chapter 39

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**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past  
by: DLR 2002******

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_The Foothills of _Mt.___Orodruin___

_S.A.__ 3441_

**Chapter 39**

Glorfindel scratched the bites on his arms.  His face took on an almost euphoric expression as his fingernails dug into his irritated flesh.

Elrond did not look up from the shirt he was repairing with needle and thread.  "You make matters worse, you know, doing that."

"I . . . care . . . not . . ." Glorfindel said through gritted teeth as he began an assault on his neck.  "Where are they coming from?  They were never this bad before."

Elrond sighed.  "It has been a damp spring, which encourages breeding.  Allow me to make a poultice for you."

"Do not even consider it," said Glorfindel.  "I refuse to cover myself with any of your smelly concoctions."  He paused and scowled at Elrond.  "Why do they bother me and not you?"

"They dislike another smelly concoction which you have also refused to use." Elrond smiled.  "Which is preferable, a slight odor or unbearable itchy swellings?"

"Scratching," moaned his friend, reaching under his shirt. "I prefer to scratch."

Elrond looked with dismay at his own shirt which he held in his hands.  "I am actually repairing the repairs at this point," he muttered.   After six years of constant wear, there was little left of the original fabric throughout all of his clothing.

Gil-galad's predictions about the decay of the supply lines had proved accurate, very little made its way through these days, just barely what was necessary to survive.

In all this time that they had been here, there had been no real battle besides the first one, which had driven Sauron to take refuge in his tower, with the allies camped around him waiting, fighting the little battles, skirmish after skirmish.  _Fight a little, run away, fight again another day._

Elrond tucked his shirt away with a sigh and gave his friend a pity-filled look.  "Poultice," he recommended with a nod.

"Never," whispered Glorfindel with tears in his eyes.

"And you name me stubborn."  Elrond rose.  "I need to stretch my legs, you think on it while I am gone."

Glorfindel made a noise that sounded distinctly like a whimper as Elrond walked away.

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The armies of men and elves sweltered beneath the burning heat of Anar in her favorite season.  The air was close, the smoke and fires of the Black Land adding to the unbearable quality of the atmosphere.

Elrond walked quietly through the _estolad,* unseeing, his inner thoughts occupying his conscious mind.  It was some time before he noticed that his feet had taken him into the heart of the army of Gondor.  He became aware suddenly as he found himself stared at from all directions._

Elrond snorted to himself.  One would think that six years of fighting side by side would have rid the Atani of their combination of fascination and distrust of the Eldar.  He sighed and redirected himself towards Elendil's tent, intending to relay messages Gil-galad had charged him with earlier.

He sighed again as the sentry informed him that Elendil was gone for the day, visiting outposts.  Someone would have to receive the messages and Elrond's lips tightened as he approached Isildur's tent.  There was no guard.

"Isildur," Elrond called as he pulled open the tent flap, and then stepped hurriedly back as he realized the man was not alone.  "Isildur," he repeated, a bit louder as he rolled his eyes.

"What ever it may be, it can wait until I am finished," a muffled voice replied.

"Finish, then," said Elrond and he stepped back a pace out of earshot.  About ten minutes passed before the tent flap moved again.  A young human female, very disheveled and dirty looking, emerged, gathered up her skirts and ran off quickly.  She was followed shortly by Isildur, boots in hand.  He proceeded to sit and put them on, beneath Elrond's somewhat disapproving gaze.

Isildur snorted.  "A man has his needs, you know," he said.  "Although your means of satisfying them may be a bit different than mine."   Elrond gave him a puzzled look but remained silent.

His boots on, Isildur stood.  "I would have invited you to join us, she had more than enough to go around," he jested with a sneer, "but I recollected your preference and I had no wish to watch my backside."

Elrond stared at him, open-mouthed.  "My preference?" he finally managed to choke out.   "Are you speaking of . . .?  I am betrothed in marriage, as you well know."

Isildur laughed.  "And quite a lengthy engagement, too, I understand.  A political marriage, so they say, to unite Lothlórien and Imladris?"

Elrond was beyond speechless.  Isildur prodded him in the ribs.  "You need not make pretense with me; Gil-galad has discussed it openly."

"Gil-galad?" Elrond whispered.

"Aye, indeed," Isildur said with a curl of his lip.  "He confessed the truth about the two of you a while back." He raised his eyebrows at Elrond.  "So what happened there, a little lover's spat?" He smirked.  "Nay, do not answer.  I must say, I find the whole idea a bit revolting, but since the males of your species are prettier than most of our females, I imagine it makes no difference to you.

"Come to think of it, though, if someone like Glorfindel was the only warm body available, he's got a appealing enough face, and a tight place to squeeze into, he might do in a pinch,"  Isildur laughed again, pausing.  "As long as you hold your own in battle, I can overlook a few freaks."

Elrond closed his eyes.  With a supreme amount of self control, he managed to stop himself from slaying the man standing in front of him.  "Please excuse me," he said with great strain in his voice as he walked away.

Now it was Isildur's turn to stare.  "Oy!" he called out, perplexed.  "So why did you seek me out?"  He got no answer from Elrond.  "Bunch of bloody pansies," he muttered.

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elrond walked without seeing once again, but his feet knew this time where to take him, knew where he needed to go.

To Gil-galad.

The high king was in his tent with Lindir attending him when Elrond entered without ceremony.  "Leave us," Gil-galad instructed his servant when he saw the look on Elrond's face.  He sighed.  "What is it now?"

Elrond clenched his teeth. "Pardon me; apparently I am an annoyance to you?"  

The high king closed his eyes.  "Let us just say that I have become very familiar with that expression you are sporting."

Elrond shook his head and laughed sardonically.  "It appears you are tired of me altogether at this point and wish I would just go away.  You have no remorse, really, do you?  All of this atonement, all of this retribution, all of this self flagellation, is just a lie, a proper façade, is it not?"

"Do you wish to drop these so-called façades?" asked Gil-galad.  "Do you look for honesty?  I have no problem giving you that, whether you can accept it is another matter."

Elrond looked at him with incredulity.  "You will answer with honesty, any question I put to you?"

"I will," returned his cousin, "to the best of my ability."

"I have just come from Isildur," related Elrond.  "He tells me that you have publicly stated that you and I were once lovers."

Gil-galad shrugged.  "This is true, I have stated it, and we were, at one time."

Elrond's jaw dropped.  "Sexually intimate, yes, I will concede that, but lovers?  This is how you look back at it?"

"You being underage at the time does not alter facts."

Elrond closed his eyes.  "What you did to me, what passed between us, it was wrong, it was not love, it never should have happened."

"Certain aspects of it, yes, I regret the hurt it caused you."

"Certain aspects?" repeated Elrond with surprise.  "Are you saying you would travel the same path again if you could but change a few minor things?"

"That last time, bringing Iraldë in, I would change that," responded the high king. "I never meant for you to suffer any injury."

Elrond regarded him with disbelief.  "That is your only regret?"  

Gil-galad sighed.  "I should possibly have waited a few years until you were older, is this what you wish to hear?"

Elrond looked at him in silence for a moment.  "I have known you for more than three thousand years, yet I do not know you at all.  When this began, you seemed oblivious to all but your own pleasure.  Later years, when I did not remember, you were very contrite, falling all over yourself with remorse.  It was quite puzzling at the time."  

He paused and frowned.  "Now, it seems with each passing year, you digress back to your earlier attitudes, which puzzles me as well."

"The shock of seeing you bleeding combined with the trauma of your memory loss disturbed me greatly," admitted Gil-galad.  "I deeply regret matters coming to that point and I tried very hard to make amends. I was sorry then, and I am sorry now for that part."  He closed his eyes a moment before continuing.

"You asked for honesty and I will give it to you.  I have lived with the memory of this two thousand years longer than you have.  I have lived with the disdain of my peers and the disgust of my servants and subjects.

"I made every effort to atone in early years, to make it up to you, to redeem myself.  It has been especially difficult these last thousand years since the return of your memory, for now I live with your hatred as well."

He reflected for a moment.  "That is the heart of it, possibly.  For the first two thousand years my actions earned your love and esteem, the next thousand years, nothing I did pleased you.  Every action I took, every word I spoke only served to increase your hatred of me.  Hatred so deep, I feel at times I cannot live with it anymore," he added in a whisper.  "Is that what would make you happy?  Is that what you wish for, ultimately?  My death?"  Gil-galad snorted.  "Somehow, I do not think even that would satisfy you.  

"What in Mandos name did I do that was so terrible that I deserve this endless punishment?  It has been three thousand years_, it wears thin_," he said with some heat, gripping Elrond's shoulders.  "Enough is enough; will you never let it go?"

Elrond regarded him with shocked eyes, as all the blood drained out of his face.  "How dare you," he whispered, his voice shaking.  "How dare you imply that this has been worse for you than it has for me?  How dare _you show any resentment to _me?_  You wish to know why the punishment is endless?  Because you learn nothing from it.  You talk about remorse?  You feel remorse only when it is convenient for you, only when it is easy.  When it becomes difficult, then the penance should be over, you have suffered enough.  _

"What do you know of suffering?  You cannot bear it any longer?  You should try bearing some of what I have had to bear.  You want to die?  Then do so and be done with it.  Perhaps Mandos himself can finally teach you something about atonement in the next three thousand years."

Elrond shook himself free of Gil-galad's grasp.  "How can I possibly let it go and forgive you, when you have no wish to be forgiven?" he whispered with angry tears in his eyes.  He turned and left the tent without another word.

Gil-galad stared after him blankly for a long while, completely oblivious of the drops of moisture making small intricate rivulets down the front of his armor.

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Círdan looked at the ring in his hand with something resembling horror.  He stretched his arm back toward the high king who held his palm outward in refusal. 

"You will do this favor for me," said Gil-galad, "please, I beg of you."

"But why, Ereinion?"  whispered Círdan with amazement.  "Why do you fear to keep it?"

"My fear is that it will fall into the hands of the Enemy if it remains with me," explained Gil-galad.  "I do not fear it on its own merits, and there is no reason you should either.  Do not wield it, just keep it safe."

Círdan sighed.  "As you wish, but you are taking it back at the first opportunity."

"Agreed," said the high king, gripping his shoulder.  "I thank thee; it is one less worry on my mind."

Círdan looked into his eyes.  "This is the end, is it not?  Everything comes to a conclusion, ere long?"

"All signs point in that direction," replied Gil-galad. "We will see major conflict very shortly."

Círdan almost smiled.  "It is about time, really.  We have been practicing six years, I think we are ready."

"Yes," whispered Gil-galad, his thoughts far away.  "Indeed, I think I am ready."

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Encampment  


	30. Chapter 40

There is no way in Arda I could have ever posted this story without the help and support of my dear friend **Nemis** who gave me advice, praise and encouragement all the way through it. It was a painful story for me to write, I put alot of my personal feelings into it. It may not have been the best forum for such a story, but it kind of wrote itself. I cannot possibly thank her enough for all she has done for me . *huge hugs*

Thanks to everyone who read, and especially those who reviewed, I know it was a controversial subject, I'm glad so many of you were able to overlook the unelvishness of it and just enjoy the story.  

*hugs*

~kalurien 

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**Dark Memories: Shadows of the Past  
by: DLR 2003******

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**Chapter 40**

Elrond eyed the flask warily.  "This is water, yes?"

"Of course not," said Glorfindel.

Elrond rolled his eyes.  "There is a time and a place for spirits, but a battlefield on a sweltering day is not one of them."

"Take it or not, as it pleases you," replied Glorfindel, annoyed.  "I offer you a drink and you offer me a lecture, it is quite rude."  

Elrond checked the contents of his water skin for the tenth time, and for the tenth time, found it dry.  "This dust is choking me," he muttered, taking the flask and sipping cautiously.  

He coughed and grimaced.  "Are the orcs supplying your liquor now?  This is simply nasty."

Glorfindel only smiled in response.  Elrond handed him back the flask and gripped his shoulder with a sigh.  "Thank you, you know I am grateful."

He pulled himself back into his saddle and Glorfindel laid a hand on the pommel.  "How far are we from the front?"

"Not far, half a league," Elrond replied.  "Look to your weapons, you will be called upon soon."

Glorfindel gave him a nod and turned to his company as Elrond rode off.

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The battle was joined.

_There was no room in their hearts or minds for fear._

_The will to survive; only this mattered, kill or be killed._

_Reason, logic, propriety, all were left by the wayside in favor of the insane joy of wholesale slaughter._

_They were no longer elves or men; they were killers, through and through, mad with the lunacy of warfare, snarling animals in a rabid frenzy of bloodlust. _

_            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

The sweat poured down his face, leaving muddy smudges in the dust as Elrond stood poised, sword in hand, waiting for the next onslaught, the next victim.

With a surge of strength, he sliced his weapon through neck after neck of any orc that was unlucky enough to come within his reach. 

The madness of battle had driven him temporarily out of his reason, but he realized it not.  Comprehension would have required a rational mind and insanity reigned supreme.

He barely recognized the faces of elves he had lived side by side with for thousands of years, so contorted were they with maniacal expressions of malevolence.

There was one elf in particular, more crazed than all the rest.  Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor, seemed to be everywhere at once, constantly in the thick of the battle, fighting along side his subjects, spearing orcs with expressions of great glee.

In the midst of his own frenzy, Elrond slowly came to realize that Gil-galad was no longer leading the troops, so caught up was he in the rampant bloodlust.

Círdan saw it as well.  "Take command!" he yelled finally after several failed attempts to get Gil-galad's attention.  "Rally the troops!"

Elrond took a deep breath.  "Aphad-im Edhil!"  He paused as the elves formed lines behind him.  "Tangado haid!  Leithio i philinn!"* he shouted and the archers obeyed, letting loose a lethal volley of arrows.  The tide was at last turning; the enemy was retreating, panicking; victory seemed finally within their grasp.

With a sharp, ominous clang, the gates of the Tower of Barad-dûr swung slowly open.  The combatants looked up to behold the Dark Lord of Mordor emerge from his stronghold, flanked by his vile lieutenants, the Nazgûl, keepers of the Nine.

Elrond gasped and his hand moved to the elven ring on the chain around his neck.  The heat became unbearable as the sudden weight of it forced him to his knees.  He closed his eyes as the voice of Sauron pounded within his head. 

_You dare to defy me, you miserable little half-breed! You opposed me in Lindon; you opposed me in Eregion, and you dare to show yourself in my kingdom?  You shall feel the power of the master ring uncloaked!_

Elrond struggled to raise his head and was rewarded with the sight of the Dark Lord advancing straight to him with menace.

_There was nothing he could do; he was unable to move to save himself.  He closed his eyes, his hand still clutching Vilya, and waited for death._

The sound of a fierce war-cry dragged his heavy eyelids open to behold Gil-galad throw himself between his vice regent and the Dark Lord.

_There was nothing he could do; he could not come to the aid the high king; he could not rise to stand with him to fight the enemy._

_There was nothing he could do but watch in horror as the heavy mace of Sauron slammed into Gil-galad's body, over and over again._

_There was nothing he could do as Gil-galad fell to the ground and Sauron crushed him completely beneath his ponderous iron-shod feet.  At that same moment Elendil leapt into the fray, commanding the attention of the Dark Lord, only to be beaten down as well._

"No!" screamed Isildur with anguish, flinging himself over his father's body and Elrond echoed him silently as he gazed in shock at what was left of Ereinion Gil-galad, the high king, his cousin.

He saw the flash of a sword in Isildur's hand, and then suddenly the world changed as a great force swept outwards, flattening all in its path as the essence of Sauron departed his physical form.  His empty armor crashed to the ground along with a shiny circlet of gold.

The spell cast upon Elrond and the weight of Vilya vanished instantly.  His vision cleared to see Isildur picking up the Ring of Power with a strange look in his eyes.

Elrond struggled to his feet.  "We must destroy that thing for the battle to be ours completely," he said, half to himself.  Círdan, who stood close-by, heard his words.  "Destroy it how?"          

Elrond's gaze lifted to the east.  "Inside Orodruin, the mountain of fire, it must be thrown into the scorching depths of the cracks of doom.  There it was made; there it can most likely be unmade."

He put his hands on Isildur's shoulders and pushed him towards the mountain.  The man allowed himself to be directed although he seemed heedless of his actions, the ring in his grasp captivating his conscious mind, obliterating all else.

They were there, finally.  Narrow ledges of rock formed paths across a sea of molten lava. 

Elrond turned to face Isildur.  "Cast it into the fire!"

Isildur stared at the ring in his hand and sneered at him.  "This I shall have as wergild for my father's death and my brother's.  Was it not I that dealt the Enemy his death-blow?"  He gave the elf a last disdainful look before he turned on his heel and stalked away.

"Isildur!" Elrond yelled angrily, wishing he could just topple the man, ring and all into the fiery depths.

"Let him go!" counseled Círdan.  "He will not heed you; he is already possessed by the power of evil.  Come, we must leave here as well!"

Elrond stood frozen with shock over the apparent stupidity of the new king of Gondor and Arnor.  "If it is not destroyed, what have we accomplished here?  The sacrifices of Gil-galad, Elendil and countless others will be for naught!  Isildur!" he cried out again with anguish.

"Come now, before it is too late!" Círdan repeated, giving him a shove.  "He cares not for the goals of others; his actions are self-serving and full of greed."  

The two elves made their way down from the mountain of doom with the folly of men filling their hearts with disgust.

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

*Follow me, Elves!  Hold [your] positions!  Fire the arrows! 

A/N: Oh yeah, a little movie (and book) verse etc. in there. . sorry ;)

~ * ~ * ~

**Epilogue**

It was a long ride from Mordor to Imladris and it went even slower than usual, the horses keeping pace with those on foot.

The company grew steadily smaller as each leg of the journey was reached, first Lórinand, then Eryn Galen as these kingdoms of elves received their tired and broken warriors back into their midst.

The passage across the Misty Mountains was uneventful, as the once numerous armies of orcs that populated its depths lay decaying in the dust of Mordor.

Círdan parted from Elrond and Celeborn at the ford of the river Bruinen.  They paused for the evening in the nearby forest, sharing a last drink, a last joke, a last memory.

"There is one thing we have not discussed, one very important issue," said Círdan as he threw a log on the fire.

Elrond was silent; watching the shower of sparks, knowing in his heart what was to come.

"The high kingship," finished Círdan.  There was a pause.

"I cannot claim it through female lineage, you know this," said Elrond, "nor do I want to."

"In this instance I think you could, for there is no other in Middle-earth, the blood of the high kings is represented in you alone," argued Círdan.  "Also you are his vice regent and heir."

Elrond sighed.  "This was thrust upon me; I never wished for it or took pleasure in it."  His grey eyes took on a sad faraway expression.  "All of these endless years of war, so many elves have died, so many more sailing away, never to return.  The great kingdoms of old are gone, they mean little now, remembered only in lore and song.

"Either by death or by choice, we are leaving, dwindling into remote memories, mere shadows of the past."  He looked into Círdan's eyes.  "There is no need for the high kingship any longer; it belongs in times of yore, the remembrance of long ago glories.  The age of men is upon us, the Eldar dwindle and fade into legend."

He put his hand on Círdan's shoulder.  "You will return to your little kingdom as I do to mine."  He glanced at Celeborn with a small smile.  "You have been very quiet over there, Hervess-adar, what of you; will you tarry in my little kingdom?"

"For a time," responded Celeborn.  "I have a wedding to attend, after all."  He smiled.  "I have no doubt Galadriel will have already have many plans in store for me."

Elrond reached inside his tunic and pulled out the Ring of the Air.  "What happens now with these?"

Círdan opened his hand to reveal the Ring of Fire and shook his head.  "I know not."

Celeborn was thoughtful.  "My guess is that they could be wielded freely, without fear."

"That will depend very much on Isildur," remarked Elrond.

"Then we have every reason to continue to worry," concluded Círdan.

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The warmth of Anar was strengthening as Círdan embraced Elrond and Celeborn in turn.  He looked over at Glorfindel and Erestor.  "I trust you to look after them," he remarked as those two elves broke into grins.

"Have no fear on that account," promised Glorfindel.

Círdan handed Elrond a large bundle. "Take this for your Hall of Kings, even if you care not to march beneath it."

Elrond raised his eyebrows questioningly. 

"The standard of the High King of the Noldor," answered Círdan.  "And this as well."  He handed Elrond a spear, but it was not just any spear.

"Aeglos," Elrond whispered.  "Aye," said Círdan.  "He would want you to have it."

"Perhaps it should stay with his remains," Elrond began, his eyes turning to the wrapped form resting on a cart.

"Nay," said Círdan. "It belongs with you."  With that, he mounted his horse and led his people to the west, back to Lindon.

Elrond sat in his saddle and watched the elves of Imladris descend into the valley, home at last after six long years of war. He was lost in thought for some time as the afternoon faded slowly into dusk, reflecting on the life and death of Ereinion Gil-galad, his cousin, his friend and enemy, both.  He shook his head free of despair and smiled as he remembered that Celebrían was down there in their sanctuary, their refuge, waiting for him, waiting to begin their life together. 

With a tug to the reins, he put the dark memories of the past behind him and rode down the steep narrow path to find his future.

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                                                                   _Finis_     


End file.
